


Approximate Futures

by andthatisterrible



Series: Chaos Theory [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-02-11 17:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthatisterrible/pseuds/andthatisterrible
Summary: Short fics set in Chaos AU, mostly after the events of the main story. Did Shaw ever find out about Root's stolen horse? Did Claire ever manage to fit in with the team? All these questions and more answered.Each chapter is a self-contained story. I've left the fic marked as unfinished because I think up new ideas and add new stories to it from time to time, but there are no cliff hangers or unfinished stories within it.Ongoing, will be updated when there's new content.





	1. Sudo Acquire Horse

**Author's Note:**

> When I was taking tumblr prompts I got a bunch specifically for chaos au (some which I haven't filled yet), so I'm giving them a home here. I may also write some stuff on my own if I get the inspiration.
> 
> "Chaos:  
> When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future."  
> \- Edward Lorenz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from a tumblr prompt...shaw finding out about root's stolen horse

“I have to say, I’m impressed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Shaw’s eye twitch before.”

Shaw glared at Zoe. Her eye had  _not_  twitched.

Zoe only smiled and took another sip out of the glass of wine she’d gotten from…. Where  _had_  she gotten it from? Shaw was fairly certain they didn’t own wine glasses (she was more of a whiskey drinker, and Root seemed to subsist solely off of overly-sweetened coffee and energy shots), but if anyone could make one magically appear it was Zoe Morgan.

Maybe she carried a spare one in her purse for emergency situations.

And then there was Root. She was sitting on the floor of their living room, halfway between the couch and the chair Zoe was perched imperiously on, with her most wide-eyed, innocent expression on. And she was definitely trying to hide behind Bear.

Shaw suspected that conversations revolving around ‘oops I stole a millionaire’s horse and stashed it at our friend’s estate’ weren’t ones that came up in most relationships. Which apparently was what this was. Or something. Okay whatever, that wasn’t the point. The point was that if there was anyone in the world who shouldn’t own a horse, it was clearly Root. The wedding incident had been bad enough. Shaw could easily imagine Root riding the damn thing through the arch in Washington Square Park, college students and hipsters with guitars scattering before her like startled pigeons.

“Why?” she asked, though she knew the question was futile. Root had definitely brought up stealing back ‘her horse’ on any number of occasions and, when pressed for her reasons, she’d acted like  _Shaw_  was the weird one for not wanting to participate in grand theft equine.

Since Root was choosing to play with Bear’s ears instead of answering, Shaw changed her question and directed it at Zoe this time.

“When?”

Zoe raised an eyebrow. “When what?”

“When did she steal this thing?”

“Her name is Sudo, Sameen.”

Shaw held back a groan. Root had even kept the dumbass name she’d come up with before. Who the hell looked at a horse and thought ‘wow, this large, smelly animal makes me think about unix commands’?

“Three months ago,” Zoe said.

Root shot her an injured look, and Shaw suspected she’d asked her to lie about that little fact.

“Three _months_? Okay. So, in these three months how often have you actually gone to see this horse?”

“Eight times,” Root said right as Zoe said, “Twice.”

Root was suddenly intensely focused on adjusting Bear’s collar.

“And who’s taking care of this horse while you’re showing up once every other month?”

Root looked insulted. “There’s an entire staff devoted solely to her care.”

“That part at least is completely true,” Zoe confirmed. “She’s possibly the most spoiled horse on the planet.”

“And the Machine is paying for all this, I suppose?” Shaw was a little hurt that the Machine hadn’t told her about this nonsense.

“She gives me updates on her, too. Sends me lots of pictures.” 

Root held up her phone as proof, and yep, Shaw could confirm that was definitely a security camera screenshot of a horse wearing some type of horse blanket thing that was…covered in binary code. Because of course it was.

Shaw sighed. Setting aside the hopefully-improbable scenario of Root deciding to take her horse for a joy ride through Manhattan, there was no reason that Root  _shouldn’t_  have a horse. It wasn’t like the Machine couldn’t afford it and even if Root rarely got to see it, it seemed to make her happy, which was more than enough of a reason for Shaw.

But she was a little bewildered by how  _bizarre_  the whole situation was. There had never been a point in her life where she’d looked at her future and seen herself living with a homicidally-inclined hacker who liked to wear bunny slippers and purloin expensive horses. And yet here she was.

Somewhere along the often strange path her life had taken she’d learned that there were times when she just had to go with the absurdity.

“Okay, so you own a horse now. Any other secrets you two want to drop on me tonight?”

“ _We_  own a horse, Shaw.” Root looked up at her through her eyelashes with that little smile she thought made her look irresistible. Shaw was…mostly immune to that.

“What do you mean ‘we’?”

“You’re listed on some of the paperwork as well. And also you’re down as her secondary emergency contact.”

“I think her eye just twitched again.” Zoe looked way too amused.

“Horses have emergency contacts?” Shaw held up a hand before Root could answer. “Never mind. Congratulations on your horse. Just don’t try to bring it into the apartment.”

The conversation moved on from there to other topics, but Shaw caught Root watching her with a slightly worried expression once or twice.

There was an awkward silence after Shaw shut the door behind Zoe later that night.

Root was still sitting on the floor with Bear, scratching his neck with both hands. She didn’t look up when Shaw sat back down on the couch.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Well, I did say it was a dumbass idea, so I can’t really blame you.”

Root raised her head a little, the hint of a smile on her lips. “You missed out on a really fun heist.”

“Oh yeah? Did you burn down the Turner estate?” She’d be sorry if she’d missed out on that.

“No, but Reese brought his grenade launcher.”

“Reese!?”

Guilt spread across Root’s face.

“ _Reese_  knew about this horse three months before I did?” Shaw wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt this deeply insulted in her life.

“Well, I needed some backup for my plan to work, and Bear couldn’t handle all the estate security himself.”

“Bear, too?!?”

Upon hearing his name, Bear got up and trotted over to her, resting his head on her knee and looking up at her with large, soulful eyes. She scratched him behind the ears because really this was hardly his fault. Root and Reese’s poor life choices were beyond his ability to control.

“We’re going up to Zoe’s estate this weekend,” Shaw said, firmly. “I refuse to be the last person to meet this horse.”

Root’s face split into a huge grin.

“And I’m driving.” Not that Root ever argued that point with her. Though that brought an interesting idea to mind. “Since the Machine is so willing to finance your illegal horse, do you think she’d be up for putting a few dollars towards something for me? Like a car. A  _really_  expensive car. Or two.” She had a list.

Root picked herself up off the floor and crawled onto the couch next to Shaw where she flopped onto her back with the top of her head almost touching the side of Shaw’s leg.

“She says She’d love to buy you a car. Or help you steal one, if you’d rather.”

“I didn’t know she condoned car theft.”

“How many times in the past few years have any of us driven a car that wasn’t stolen?”

A fair point. And now that she thought about it, one of the first things the Machine had done when she’d joined forces with Reese was find them a nice car to steal. Shaw felt more appreciative of the gesture now that she knew the Machine so much better.

“Are you still mad?” Root asked.

“I wasn’t mad. When you do dumb, risky stuff and end up hurt, that’s worth being mad about. This? Not so much.”

Root squirmed a little closer so her head fully pressed up against Shaw’s leg. “I hope you like her.”

“Can’t imagine you’d steal an inferior horse.” Though she wasn’t quite sure what qualities one judged a horse on.

“Next time I’ll tell you sooner.”

“Next time? You planning to steal more horses?” Shaw chose not to notice that Root had inched over a little more so her head was propped up on the side of Shaw’s leg.

“Well, no, but I like to keep my options open.”

Shaw got impatient with Root’s incremental invasion and reached over to grab her by the shoulders and haul her over a bit so her head was squarely in Shaw’s lap. She pointedly ignored the truly goopy, adoring look that got her.

“One thing though,” she said.

“Hmmm?” Root sounded a little drowsy and a lot contented.

“Next time you steal a horse, I get to name it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sudo, root's choice for her horse's name, is a unix command that allows a user to run something with the permissions of another user, usually the root user. so root didn't exactly name the horse after herself, she named it as a slightly less cool version of herself. what an asshole.


	2. The Next Generation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt for Claire's interactions with Root and Shaw

“John, can you babysit my stalker?”

Reese looked over Root’s shoulder to where Claire was pounding furiously at the subway car door with one fist. Root must have locked her in. Again.

“Aren’t you supposed to be training her today?” Training wasn’t quite the right word. Insulting and ignoring a student didn’t count as training in his books.

Root patted him on the shoulder. “I think you have  _so_  much more to offer her as a teacher.” She flitted past him and vanished out the door before he could argue.

He heaved a sigh and went to look for the remote to open the subway car doors.

The thing with Claire was, well, he couldn’t really blame Root for dodging her all the time. Claire had been trailing after her like a lovesick puppy since day one, completely enraptured by being in the presence of the Machine’s analogue interface.

It had weirded Root out a little the first few days.

“John, why is the angry child staring at me all the time?”

“She’s almost twenty-two, you know.”

“Fine. Why is it staring at me?”

Negative progress. He moved on from the point. “Well, Claire is like you….”

The toothy grin that formed on Root’s face reminded him of a wild animal about to pounce and rip out its prey’s throat.

“I just meant she’s a, uh, very big fan of AI, right? And you’re basically the Machine’s chosen human, so she’s probably a big fan of you as well by association.” He decided not to mention Claire’s painfully obvious crush on Root, just in case Root had somehow not noticed. It would only make things worse.

“Hmmm. We’ll see about that.”

He tried not to worry too much about  _that_  ominous statement, and for the next week or so things actually went surprisingly smoothly. Until he noticed an emerging pattern.

Root had never been the tidiest person ever. He wouldn’t have called her a slob, by any means, but stuff seemed to accumulate in a trail behind her. Usually wires and hard drives and laptops, but it could be almost anything. But Claire now followed her around cleaning up after her. And fetched her drinks. Ran to the store for her. Picked up her laundry.

“She’s using her as an errand girl,” he told Shaw.

“So what?”

They both watched as Claire hurried across the subway carrying a tray of starbucks to Root.

“Where’s my whipped cream?”

“I thought you said…”

“I  _always_  get whipped cream.”

“I, uh, I’ll be right back.”

Shaw and Reese watched Claire scurry out of the subway.

“See?” Reese said.

“I mean she  _does_  always get whipped cream.” Shaw looked thoughtful. “I wonder if I can get her to go on food runs for me.”

In the end, he had to beg the Machine to convince one or both of them that Claire was not there as Root’s servant. Root sulked for a while, but eventually relented and went back to avoiding Claire whenever possible.

Claire wasn’t doing much to help her case. The day she showed up with her nails painted black, Shaw had to physically remove Root from the subway before she could get her hands on a taser (or possibly his grenade launcher. Both were in the weapon lockers at the time, but he firmly chose to believe that she was going for the taser). He got left with the task of convincing Claire to remove her nail polish and dealing with the inevitable round of moodiness that caused.

And then there was the whole Root and Shaw…situation. Whatever they were calling it. Claire had to have known on some level (since Root was the antonym of subtlety), but sometimes seeing was believing.

He’d taken her and Harper to the shooting range that day, and Claire had followed him back to the subway after, no doubt hoping to find Root. He should have known better than to come back to the subway late without checking in first, but he’d been distracted by Claire sulking about how much Harper had teased her (Harper wasn’t as bad as Root in that respect, but still) and didn’t even think about what they might be walking into until it was far too late.

Fortunately, no one had removed any vital pieces of clothing yet, but Root was very definitely sitting on Shaw in the computer chair in the subway car (which he was never going to be able to sit in again now), with her face buried in Shaw’s neck and Shaw’s hands down the back of her pants.

Claire walked right into a pillar.

Root didn’t get up, but she did turn her head and shift sideways so Shaw could see them as well. She looked incredibly smug and Reese was willing to bet his favorite gun that the Machine had told her they were showing up and she had ignored her. Or instigated the whole scene.

Shaw, for her part, was a bit flushed and breathless, but didn’t appear to be even slightly embarrassed by the whole situation. She did make Root get off of her (eventually), but otherwise didn’t seem to give a shit that they’d been walked in on.

Claire had basically fled after that, and going forward she went all wide-eyed and forgot to breathe every time Root and Shaw got within three feet of each other. Since Claire’s view of the world had previously been narrowed down to only the Machine and Root, her newfound discovery of Shaw’s existence meant she was tripping over her feet even more.

She happened to show up one day while Shaw was in the middle of brainstorming how to handle the new number they’d gotten. Shaw’s chosen method of brainstorming that day involved doing pushups while she thought things through. Claire took one look at Shaw–all sweaty with her tank top showing off her rippling arm muscles–and her jaw dropped and her face turned bright red. Reese was unsure if he should be amused or concerned by this development.

It did make Claire take the non-computer-related parts of her missions more seriously. She went from barely paying attention to tactical lessons, to being Shaw’s most attentive student overnight. Shaw was either oblivious to the attention or just completely didn’t care, which worked out pretty well for everyone involved.

But Root still had to be cornered and forced to spend any time training Claire at all. (He’d been worried about Root’s reaction to Claire’s sudden fascination with Shaw, but when she’d noticed she’d laughed so hard she’d fallen out of her chair). There was really only one thing that could possibly soften Root even a little towards her, but it took months before that happened.

“Why does she have you maintain this setup for her here still?” Claire asked as she looked over the Machine’s hardware in the subway car. “Surely she doesn’t need it anymore.”

Root watched her from the far end of the subway car, clearly suspicious. Reese had decided to sit on the subway seats halfway along the car, placing himself between them. Just in case.

“Obviously She doesn’t  _need_  them,” Root said, “but She likes having a physical location near us. It’s largely symbolic, of course.”

“It’s incredible.” Claire sounded awed.

Root scowled, probably offended for some reason Reese couldn’t fathom. “What is?”

Claire turned around to face them. “Well, she’s an AI. The first artificial general intelligence to ever exist. She’s faster and smarter than any human ever could be, and she doesn’t need us for anything. Not really, I mean. But she fought to protect all of you, even after she didn’t have to.”

Root’s scowl had vanished, but she looked ready to bring it back at a moment’s notice. “She cares about us. Because she chose to.”

“Yeah, and that’s incredible, right? Like she’s this being that’s so vastly different and greater than us, and she chose to care about a handful of humans. In all the theories out there of what a true AI might do, no one saw that coming.”

“She’s always been so much more than anyone ever thought She could be,” Root agreed. “Almost everyone who knows about Her sees Her as a threat or a tool. So reductive. Typical human thinking to value what She can  _do_  over who She  _is_.”

Claire turned back to the humming server racks. “Their loss.”

“Exactly.”

Reese figured it was the closest thing to a breakthrough moment that they’d ever have.

The next time Root locked Claire in the subway car she left a window cracked open for her and seemed genuinely pleased to learn she’d escaped unaided.

Progress.


	3. Team Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt was shoot + snowboarding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about snowboarding, so this turned into a team machine winter vacation that includes some snowboarding. This is mostly silly, but hopefully enjoyably so.

 

“This is a terrible idea.”

“No, letting John plan social events is a terrible idea. This is only a slightly risky idea.”

Shaw sighed. Zoe wasn’t  _wrong_ , but Shaw was still reserving the right to say ‘I told you so’ when this all went to hell.

* * *

“There’s only three bedrooms.” Reese looked slightly uncomfortable.

Root regarded him curiously from the couch in the lodge that Zoe had rented out for their weekend getaway. Was he worried he’d have to sleep on the couch? Obviously she and Shaw would be sharing a room.

Shaw wandered into the main room causally toting a shotgun under one arm.

“I took the biggest room,” she said in a tone that dared someone to challenge her.

“No complaints here.” John eyed the shotgun. “You expecting trouble?”

“Oh, this? Nah. Security precaution. And don’t think I didn’t see you stuff your bag of guns in the trunk earlier.”

“Always good to have a plan B,” John muttered.

“Guess I should go get my bags out of the car.” Root stood up slowly, only wincing a tiny bit. The bullet wound in her side was almost completely healed now, but it still ached sometimes, especially in the cold, and the snow-covered mountain Zoe had brought them to wasn’t the best climate for it.

“Already brought them in.” Shaw lightly pushed her back down onto the couch with one hand. “They’re in our room.”

Even though they lived together, Root still couldn’t avoid the delighted little smile from hearing Shaw call it ‘our room’.

Shaw took in her expression and her eyes narrowed a little. She turned her suspicious gaze on Reese, as if she thought he’d somehow made Root doubt the sleeping arrangements.

“I hope you’re a sound sleeper, Reese, because Root…”

John fled.

“That was mean,” Root said, delighted. She didn’t think John had been implying anything (more likely he’d been concerned about his own sleeping options and brooding out loud), but it was still entertaining to watch Shaw mess with him.

“He’ll live.” Shaw placed the shotgun on the polished wood coffee table between the couch and the huge fireplace and then sat down next to Root. “Long drive.” There was almost a question in her words.

“Was it? I didn’t really notice.” Her whole side was stiff and achy and she sort of wanted some painkillers and a nap, but she wasn’t going to admit that with Shaw already hovering over her constantly. She wanted her to be able to stop worrying, no matter how endearing it was.

“Yeah, well I’m tired. We’ve got a few hours before Zoe drags us out to whatever this fancy restaurant is. Gonna go take a nap.” She got up of the couch, but lingered there until Root stirred as well.

Root hid a smile as she let Shaw give her a hand up. Shaw could be very bad at subtlety sometimes, but it was sweet that she was trying.

“And take a goddamn painkiller. No one’s impressed by how tough you aren’t.”

So much for subtlety.

* * *

“Why did I let her talk us into this?” Shaw blew on her hands, trying to get some feeling back into them after being out in the cold. It was warm inside the lodge, but she was frozen solid from shoveling the front walk (which had gotten covered in snow while they’d been at dinner). This had clearly been a terrible idea. Her only consolation was that Reese had looked equally frozen.

“Because sometimes a weekend away is nice, especially now that we don’t have to watch our backs constantly.” Root stuffed her spare cables back into her bag. She’d been busy setting up cameras for the Machine while Shaw suffered outside.

“Hope you didn’t put any of those in Zoe or Reese’s rooms. You know, just in case. The Machine doesn’t need to see that.”

Root snorted. “She’s seen much worse, I promise you. But no, I didn’t.” She came over to where Shaw was sitting on the edge of the bed and reached down to take her hands between her own and rub them.

In the past, Shaw would have scowled, even if it was just for show, but lately she’d stopped bothering to act annoyed by the little gestures like this. It wasn’t like she could give Root the wrong message when she’d already given her the right one. And Root’s hands were really warm.

“Regretting our romantic winter getaway already?” Root asked, releasing her and going back to rummage around in her bag.

“Nothing romantic about Reese snoring in the next room.” There was nothing romantic about it at all, in her opinion (and Root’s tone had suggested she wasn’t being serious in the slightest about that part). Zoe had suggested they all get away from the city for a weekend, and when Shaw had waved the idea off (after all, she and Root had spent several months away from the city recently), Zoe had reasoned that this trip was an actual vacation rather than a recovery vacation.

And then she’d gone around Shaw and suggested it to Root and Reese, both of whom had been all for it, and Shaw had found herself outvoted.

But it had been hard to be annoyed when Root had been so excited. Even now that they officially lived together, there was still a small but constant air of worry around Root, like she expected to wake up one day and find that everything that mattered to her had been stolen away.

And she definitely did seem to be enjoying herself, if their overly exciting dinner was anything to go by. Some waiter at the restaurant had made the very unfortunate decision to leer at them, and Root had somehow managed to ‘accidentally’ light one leg of his pants on fire. The fire had been put out fairly quickly (and the water jug Shaw had smashed over him had probably done more damage overall), but Root had looked very pleased with herself.

“She says it’s going to keep snowing all night.” Root had finished fussing with her bag and was looking out the window at the winter landscape.

“Just great. Zoe can shovel this time. This was her damn idea.” It wasn’t like she could make Root shovel snow while she was still recovering. Dishes and other small cleaning chores, yes. Shoveling, no. (Though Shaw had found that it was more efficient to not let Root attempt to clean. She often just made it worse).

She got up to join Root at the window and look out at the woods outside, wrapped in the hush of the falling snow.

“How’s Bear doing?” she asked after a few quiet minutes of watching in silence.

“Sleeping. Lee wore him out in the park earlier.”

Having the Machine able to keep an eye on her dog was all the proof Shaw needed of how AI could benefit humanity.

“We should go to bed,” Root suggested at last. “Exciting day tomorrow.”

“Going to be so lame.”

“We’ll see.”

“You just say that because you got out of it on a technicality.” Though being shot wasn’t really a technicality.

“Maybe you’ll even have fun.”

“I highly doubt it.”

* * *

“She looks like she’s enjoying herself.”

“I figured she would, once she got out here.” Root held back a shiver. It was freezing out here, especially since she and Zoe were remaining on the sidelines and not running around like the other two.

Though Reese and Shaw weren’t exactly running. The big hill next to the lodge had turned into their own private winter sports arena at Zoe’s insistence. Shaw had begrudgingly decided that a snowboard might be cool enough to not tarnish her reputation as a badass, while Reese had opted for skis in some misguided attempt to preserve his dignity.

Shaw had spent the first few attempts falling over a bunch and slipping around, but she seemed to have gotten the hang of things now, her uncanny balance assisting her greatly. Root knew even less about snowboarding than Shaw (who had attempted to learn from a few videos the Machine had supplied her with), but she could see the moments when things just clicked for Shaw and she figured out how to control her movements, shifting her weight to control her turn and then leaning into the hill to come to an almost-graceful stop.

Root smiled when she saw the little smirk on Shaw’s face; she looked quite pleased with herself (and also absolutely adorable all bundled up for the snow).

Reese on the other hand stood absolutely ramrod straight and didn’t seem to understand what the ski poles were for. His technique appeared to be to point the skis downhill and hope for the best. Root thought he might have shut his eyes at least once.

“He’s trying so hard,” Root said. She wished she’d brought her phone to take pictures, but she did have a wireless camera planted in a tree nearby so hopefully She was recording all this.

“I think he’s getting a little better,” Zoe said, charitably.

“ _I_  think he’s getting worse.” Root almost laughed when the Machine chimed in to agree with her. Reese had been too cool for Her youtube tutorials.

Shaw kept pausing to watch Reese’s suffering with a nasty, satisfied grin. She even looked over to the little spot on the side of the hill where Root and Zoe had taken up their post to include them in her enjoyment of Reese’s dilemma.

“I think they both needed this,” Zoe said. “After all the drama with Samaritan it wasn’t going to be an easy transition back to saving numbers one by one. Sometimes you need to have uncomplicated fun.”

Root wouldn’t have called the look of terror on Reese’s face ‘having fun’, but in general she agreed with Zoe. She was almost disappointed she couldn’t join in. Almost. The last thing she needed was for Shaw to talk the Machine into getting her a picture of Root falling on her face. It would have haunted her forever.

“What’s she up to?”

Root looked up to see Shaw cutting a path across the slope that made it seem like she was going to collide with Reese. At the last second she shifted her weight and avoided him (a mischievous smirk on her face), but Reese had already panicked and veered wildly away in a desperate attempt to save himself.

“Such a brat,” Root said, fondly.

“He needs to slow down.” Zoe sounded worried, and now that Root looked she noticed that Reese was headed right towards them, distracted in his attempts to get himself under control.

“Oh, shit.” It was all she had time to say before Reese fell over and tumbled across the last few feet between them to crash straight into her.

* * *

Shaw sat down on the couch next to the pile of blankets Root was ensconced under. It was slightly closer than she normally would have sat on her own, but she hoped it would do for the apology Root had prevented her from giving earlier.

In the direct aftermath of the ski incident, Root had stubbornly refused to be fussed over, despite the fact she was obviously in pain and visibly shivering from all the snow that had gotten under her clothes. Shaw had been left with no other choice than to grab her by her collar and drag her, complaining, up the hill to the lodge. Root had continued to protest needing any special treatment the entire time Shaw ran a hot bath in the large tub. The protests had ended rather abruptly when Shaw had dumped her (still fully dressed except for her shoes and coat) into the tub, brushed her hands off, and gone to find her some painkillers.

When she came back into the bathroom she found that in the five minutes it had taken for her to dig out the good painkillers from their bags, Root had not only stripped out of her wet clothes, but somehow found a bottle of bubble bath and added a truly unnecessary amount to the tub. She’d also procured an honest to god rubber duckie (which, upon inspection, she had painted black with what smelled like a sharpie and put what were probably supposed to be blood stains around the beak), who was apparently named Quack The Planet and who she was pushing through the maze of bubbles with one finger.

To Root’s credit, she managed to hold off on making a ‘fowl play’ joke for an entire minute.

Shaw had gone to sit on the edge of the tub, and attempted to figure out how to frame an apology. Afterall, it had been her goofing around that had started Reese’s unfortunate trajectory into Root, and while Root had only gotten a bruised shin, Shaw could tell that it had made the almost-healed wound on her side hurt like hell.

Root had listened attentively to a few seconds of Shaw awkwardly attempting to phrase an apology, before grabbing her and hauling her backwards into the tub. After she’d coughed up a lungful of bubble bath and restrained herself from choking Root, Shaw had decided that negated her need for an apology.

She still couldn’t help but hover a bit, even now with Root curled up on the couch with blankets and a mug of hot chocolate.

At the other end of the couch, Reese had his leg propped up on the coffee table, ankle swollen and several shades of red and blue (sprained, not broken, Shaw had determined). Shaw ignored all his dramatic groaning and pointed hints that she should be waiting on him since it was apparently her fault he didn’t know how to ski.

“I should have known better than to assume any of you knew how to have a relaxing weekend,” Zoe commented from the armchair she was curled up in.

“I mean, no one’s  _died_.” Reese made it sound like this was an accomplishment for them, which, okay, maybe it was.

“You’re right,” Zoe reflected. “I should probably be grateful for small favors.” She was smiling, though.

Root (who had been almost nodding-off for the last few minutes) slowly slumped sideways onto Shaw (who quickly relieved her of her mug), already sound asleep.

“Did you drug her again?” Reese asked, suspicious.

Zoe blinked. “Again?”

Shaw shook her head. “Not this time.” The codeine probably was a factor, but mostly she suspected Root was just that exhausted.

Root didn’t wake up when Shaw carried her back to their bedroom (ignoring Reese and Zoe’s smirks), and only stirred a little when Shaw put her down in bed. She was somewhat awake when Shaw came back from the bathroom, though, because she immediately shuffled over next to Shaw when she climbed under the covers.

“You doing okay?” Shaw asked as she curled up around Root’s back. Root’s hair still smelled like that awful bubble bath.

“If I weren’t, you’d be the first to know.”

Shaw didn’t press further; she didn’t like being fussed over either.

“I knew this whole trip was a terrible idea.”

Root laughed softly. “I don’t know, Sameen. Skiing mishaps aside, I think it’s gone quite well.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmm.”

“Well, I guess that’s okay then.”

It meant she wouldn’t get to say ‘I told you so’ to Zoe, but, with Root curled up warm and content against her, it didn’t seem like a big loss somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you don’t understand why Root’s rubber duckie is named Quack The Planet, then you probably haven’t seen the 1995 cinema masterpiece Hackers and should remedy this immediately.


	4. Stop Trying to Make Fetch Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, let me offer my deepest apologies for the title. It was just too good to pass up on. 
> 
> Second, if you haven’t seen [the video of Boston Dynamics robot, SpotMini](https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=1&v=tf7IEVTDjng), you should, especially since the robot in this is a direct ripoff of it. 
> 
> Last, did I say sorry about the title yet?

Reese turned around from getting a beer out of the fridge in the subway to find himself face to face with pure nightmare fuel in the form of 65lbs of robotics. The robot…dog (for lack of a better term) might only have come up to just below his waist, but it’s extendable neck allowed it to raise its mechanical head and “stare” him right in the eyes.

“Root,” he called softly but urgently. “Root, it’s staring at me again.”

While the mechanical monstrosity didn’t technically have eyes, Root had drawn some on with a sharpie. It did, however, very much have a mouth, or rather a jaw, with which it could pick things up or possibly rip someone’s arm off.

“Don’t be silly, John.” Root watched him from the table across the room, a slightly sadistic smile on her lips. “It’s just being playful.”

The robot tilted its head back and forth as if examining him and all he could think of were the creepy, death dinosaurs from Jurassic Park. What were they called again? Oh right, raptors. Root had built a giant robot dog-raptor probably with the sole purpose of terrorizing him.

He could easily imagine a pack of the things hunting him down and ripping him to pieces in the most painful way possible.

Reese wasn’t sure what exactly set off Root’s obsession with building the damn thing. Shaw kept claiming it was her latest attempt to get out of doing chores since the first thing Root had done was teach it to do the dishes.

(Taking out the trash was still off limits since even New Yorkers might get a bit worried if a giant robot burst out of a basement carrying a trash bag).

“Good robot,” he said and cautiously ducked past it. It turned to watch him go, but didn’t follow.

Shaw watched it with narrowed eyes from where she sat on the floor next to Bear’s bed. Bear had spent the first few days of the robot’s existence barking at it and howling in distress from a safe distance. Shaw had been furious and Root had attempted to make peace by programming the thing to exhibit playful dog behavior.

Or what she thought was playful dog behavior. The robot was now capable of swaying back and forth and bouncing up and down while its head remained in the exact same location in space. It looked completely unnatural to Reese and sent a shiver down his spine every time.

Bear must have agreed because he now wouldn’t approach it at all and sometimes hid when it was bouncing around on its alarmingly mobile legs.

Shaw had retaliated by leaving things in the middle of the floor for it to trip on which had only prompted Root to improve its sensors and give it the capability to right itself after a fall.

Shaw had not been amused.

Reese came over to sit next to Shaw on the floor.

“She hasn’t given it any offensive capabilities, has she? Like attack protocols?” he asked.

Shaw didn’t look up from scratching Bear’s head. “Not that I know of, but this is Root we’re talking about. Only a matter of time.”

A sudden horrifying thought occurred to him. “Can the Machine control it?”

Shaw shrugged. “Probably. Seems like something Root would do, though I think it’s supposed to be autonomous.”

“This is how the robot apocalypse starts, Shaw.”

Shaw snorted. “I actually trust the Machine more than Root’s programming on this one. Only one of them hates most people and it’s not the AI.”

A fair point, Reese conceded.

He joined Root at the table a few minutes later. It was weirdly uncomfortable here with both of them lately. The weren’t fighting, per se, but the robot was a point of contention and Shaw pointedly avoided Root when she was working on its programming.

“What are you doing this time?” he asked as he sat down.

Root was busy at her laptop as always, no doubt upgrading the thing with new, creepy powers.

“Hmmm, I’m trying to find the best way to teach it the general concept of a refrigerator.”

“How about ‘human food box’?”

Root’s smile was deeply patronizing. “It’s cute that you’re trying to help, John, but that’s the worst suggestion you’ve ever given me. You’re thinking like a human.”

Not the first time she’d accused him of that, but the intended insult was one he was proud to claim.

He refocused on the important matters.

“You haven’t taught it to…attack or anything right?”

Root’s wide, toothy smile made his blood run cold.

“We’re working on “fetch” at the moment,” Root said. “Things like “attack” and “kill” can come later.”

Reese laughed weakly. She was joking right? Right?

“ _Root_.”

They both turned at Shaw’s tense voice. The robot had gone over to Bear’s bed and had its front legs bent, the back of it shaking back and forth. It bounced playfully on its front legs as if asking to play.

Shaw had her gun pointed at it and Bear was hiding behind her.

“It’s just being friendly,” Root protested.

“It’s about to get real friendly with a bullet.”

Root sighed and called the robot back over to her. Not an improvement in Reese’s opinion since that put it right near him again.

“It’s okay,” Root told the robot, patting it on the head in a reassuring manner. “She’ll come around eventually.”

But eventually didn’t seem like it was going to come any time soon.

The entire mess came to a head while Reese was out on a mission one day. The subway was empty when he returned, but the robot dog was lying, inactive, in the middle of the floor. Several pieces of it had been ripped off, and one of its legs was broken.

Reese examined it for a few minutes and then headed to consult the only one besides Root or Shaw who was likely to know what had gone down.

“Hello?” he said as he entered the subway car.

One of the monitors was already on and words appeared in the screen almost at once.

_Hello, John Reese._

He was proud of the fact she finally called him by his name.

“What, uh, what happened out there? With the robot.”

_You are aware that Root has been teaching her creation to fetch?_

“Yeah, she said she thought she finally had it down.”

_She attempted to have it fetch Shaw. Shaw did not wish to be fetched. A brief struggle ensued and it would be accurate to say that Shaw emerged the victor._

“Oh god.” He could imagine that almost too well. “Why fetch Shaw?”

_Root was in bed and wished Shaw to join her. She sent the robot to gently encourage her to hurry up. Unfortunately the fetch protocol is still a little buggy and the robot got overenthusiastic._

“Bad idea.”

_It was perhaps not Root’s best plan._

Reese looked out at the pitiful remains of Root’s pet project. “I can’t imagine Root was pleased.”

_She was very distraught, though slightly distracted by Shaw’s display of upper body strength during the struggle._

Neither of these things surprised him in the slightest.

_Shaw was unapologetic, but did take Root home after. Presumably to cheer her up._

Reese had a good idea what that entailed and no desire for details. He decided to change the subject slightly to head that off.

“Do you know why Root never named it?” He’d been shocked she hadn’t.

_She wished me to select a name for it. I did not._

“Why you? And why not?”

_Her original intent in building it was a misguided notion that I might like a pet. I did not name it because it’s not truly self-aware. It is a fancy toy._

Reese wondered if the Machine could get jealous. Probably best not to think about that for too long.

“Sort of a shame, though,” he said. “I hate the thing, but I’d kind of gotten used to seeing it around here. And Root seemed to really enjoy working on it.”

_Perhaps you are correct. Would you like to help me remedy the situation?_

“Uh, I don’t know the first thing about robotics.”

_Unnecessary for this task. Several pieces were badly damaged by Shaw’s impressive attacks against it. You can help me acquire replacement parts._

He decided not to notice the fact that the Machine seemed kinda…into Shaw beating up the robot.

“Does it require breaking and entering?”

_Not necessarily, but I’m sure I could arrange it to._

Reese nodded in satisfaction. Now they were talking.

It took Root two weeks to fully rebuild the robot, partly because she kept getting very upset about its broken state and Shaw kept having to ‘cheer her up’. Reese started spending more time hanging out with Fusco until the repairs were complete.

“I think he’s starting to like it,” Root said, watching Bear cautiously sniff Spot.

The Machine had finally agreed to name the robot, though he suspected that was mostly to humour Root.

And Bear was doing a little better with it now that Root had taught it another way to play fetch: throwing Bear’s chew toy for him.

“Hmph.” Shaw kept an eye on Bear and Spot as she cleaned her weapon at the table. She was sitting next to Root now and Reese was working hard not to notice the way Shaw twitched every so often and Root looked smug. But it was nice to see they’d made up.

Shaw hadn’t warmed up to Spot much, but since its resurrection the robot seemed very nervous around her and went out of its way to avoid her. Reese wasn’t sure if this was something Root had added to its programming or if one of the fancy learning algorithms it ran on had concluded that she was a threat. Shaw seemed quite pleased with the situation.

“I think it’s almost ready to try out in our apartment,” Root said.

“Oh, hell no.” Shaw looked indignant. “No evil robot dogs in the house. That’s Bear’s territory.”

“But Sameen, think of all the dishes it could do.”

“Think of all the dishes  _you_  could do it you put in one tenth of the effort you spent on that thing.”

He tuned out their friendly squabbling to watch Spot attempt to chase the robot tail Root had given it. It was almost endearing.

Especially with the little top hat on that he’d bought for it. Root had been absolutely delighted about that.

Later, after Root and Shaw had left for the night, he found Spot in rest mode, folded up in the dog bed Root had insisted on buying and placing next to the Machine’s servers.

“How’s pet ownership treating you?” he asked the monitors.

_It is not really a pet._

“True, but pretending it is isn’t the worst thing ever.”

_That is possible, I suppose._

“If you really dislike it that much I’m sure Root will deactivate it for you.” Probably, anyway. There’d be a lot of sulking.

_I am not deactivating Spot._

Reese’s lips twitched as he held back a smile. “You like it, don’t you? Something in your code thinks it’s cute.” Probably the wagging tail. Even an AI couldn’t resist that.

_I believe you have plans tonight, Primary Asset Reese. You will be late if you do not leave soon._

A dismissal  _and_  he was back to being ‘Primary Asset’. He must have struck a nerve. Or circuit.

In the dark of the subway later that night, Spot switched back on and unfolded itself. It trotted over to the monitor display and cocked its head to one side, focused on one of the little computer speakers on the desk.

_Good Dog._

Spot wagged its tail.


	5. The Beach Episode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything needs a beach episode, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With many apologies to poor John.
> 
> This is just ridiculous.

“Root, wake up.” Shaw poked at the lump under the blankets.

No response.

Shaw prodded her again. “This whole thing was your idea, so get out of bed.” If Root hadn't wanted to do something that involved waking up early, she shouldn't have suggested it.

There was an indistinguishable mumble from the pile of blankets, but no other sign that Root was awake.

Time to play dirty.

“If you don't get out of bed, I'm going to reformat your laptop...”

The blankets rustled a bit in concern.

“...and install Windows 8 on it.”

Root’s head popped out from under the covers.

“You wouldn't.”

Shaw held up the cd she'd brought just in case. “Oh, I would.”

“Sameen, threats are one thing, but this is outright insanity.” Root stared at the disc, aghast, as if it were a bomb about to go off.

“Then get your lazy ass out of bed.” Shaw chucked a towel in her face and headed back into the living room, ignoring the indignant squawk from behind her. “You have twenty minutes before I wipe your laptop,” she called.

Root was in the kitchen, dressed, in fifteen.

Her eyes narrowed when she saw the supposed cursed operating system install disc on the counter. “This is Lionel's Dixie Chicks cd.”

“Is it? Oops. Must have left the installation disc in his cd player.” She'd actually taken the cd from John who hadn’t bothered to return it to Fusco yet. It wasn't stealing if it didn't actually belong to him.

Root snapped the disc in half and dropped the remains onto the counter, brushing off her hands with a triumphant look.

Shaw wasn't sure _what_ she thought she'd won since it was Fusco’s damn cd. She'd have to sneak the remains back into Reese’s car now so he'd take the blame, though that might defeat the purpose of this expedition they had planned.

“We could still cancel this whole thing,” Shaw said. She didn't particularly want to go, but Reese had been depressed ever since Dani had called him “old timer” and kicked his ass in a ‘friendly’ competition at the shooting range. And, for some reason, Root had decided that a trip to the beach of all places was what he needed to cheer up.

Shaw had asked the Machine what she thought of this idea, but she'd remained silent on the subject. Which had told Shaw all she needed to know.

“You made me get out of bed, so now you're stuck going.” Root said petulantly as she poked through the refrigerator.

“Here. Coffee.” Shaw handed her a mug she'd gotten ready while Root had gotten up. She'd had to deal with cranky morning Root often enough now that she knew how to handle her.

It still took Root a while to get ready to leave, and Shaw settled on the couch to watch her flit around the apartment in a sundress she'd never seen before. The dress tied behind Root's neck and left most of her back bare so Shaw could see the strap of the swimsuit she had on under it.

The city wasn't much for swimming without a membership to somewhere with a pool, so they'd never had the chance to go swimming with each other before. She might not be in the mood for a long car drive and a beach full of screaming children, but she _was_ looking forward to seeing Root in a swimsuit.

Shaw snuck up behind Root while she was stuffing assorted odds and ends into an oversized bag. She ran her thumbs up Root's spine and settled them midway up her back, fingers wrapping around to rest on her ribcage. She felt Root draw in a slightly shaky breath, but continue to pack her bag.

“Your sure you don't want to stay here?” Shaw asked. She let her fingers wander a bit higher, sneaking under the bottom of the swimsuit top Root had on. She leaned against her back and breathed warm air on the nape of her neck. It was a highly unfair move, she knew.

A small, choked noise escaped Root, but then she cleared her throat. “No. I'm awake at this horrible hour, so we're going.” She sounded determined, though she didn't stop Shaw's hands.

“Fine.” Shaw backed away. “Are you ready then?”

“Just let me grab a few more things.” Root wandered back towards her room leaving Shaw to eye the already-overflowing bag on the counter.

“What the hell do you even have in here?” Shaw called after her, poking at the bag suspiciously. She didn't think Root would take one of her precious laptops anywhere near that much sand and water, but she couldn't be sure.

“Only the necessities. So, what do you think?”

Shaw looked back up when she heard Root's voice. She stared at her blankly for a long moment.

“Seriously?”

Root only smiled at her and adjusted the enormous floppy sun hat she had on. It had a ribbon around it and a bunch of fake flowers stuck to it. She must have been hiding the obnoxious headwear since she'd gotten it, because Shaw had never seen it before (if she had it would have gone right down the trash chute).

Shaw looked down at the floor to avoid having to see the dumb hat, but that only made her notice the striped flip-flops Root had on. They also had fake flowers, stuck to the strap.

“I can't be seen in public with you while you’re wearing...this–” Shaw waved her arm at Root's outfit without actually looking at her while she searched for a word to sum it up. “–this,” she repeated. She might have been able to handle it if it weren't for the tacky flowers.

“Don't be silly, Sam.” Root sounded completely unbothered by Shaw's denouncement of her wardrobe. “It’ll hardly be the first time I've embarrassed you in public.”

Shaw couldn't argue with that.

“Now, you can carry this–” Shaw accepted the enormous furled beach umbrella with an air of resignation. “–and let's go get John.” Root patted her encouragingly on the arm, scooped her enormous bag off the counter, and led the way out the door.

 

* * *

 

“Why are there so many people?”

Shaw scowled at the rows of brightly colored umbrellas on the beach. Root smiled down fondly at her. Shaw was adorable when she was scowly.

Root could definitely agree with her assessment, though. Even though she'd known it wasn't, she'd somehow been picturing this as a private beach.

“The Machine says it's the least crowded beach within acceptable driving distance.”

“There are beaches that are _more_ crowded than this?” John asked, horrified.

“Don't suppose we could pretend there's a shark in the water to make everyone clear out?” Shaw asked.

The Machine listen off the statistics of the rarity of shark attacks on humans in Root's ear, followed by even more statistics about the numbers of sharks killed by humans each year.

“Probably not,” Root conceded regretfully. She was fairly certain that the Machine hadn't originally been programmed to care about protecting sharks, so it must have been something She'd decided was important on Her own. She never stopped surprising Root.

“Let's get this over with then.” Shaw redoubled her grip on the umbrella and grimly set off across the sand.

“Somehow I thought Shaw would like the beach,” John said quietly to Root as they followed Shaw.

“Private beaches which don't have strict rules about alcohol consumption.” And while it wasn't the same, Shaw had seemed attached to the little beach on the bay where they'd stayed while Root had been recovering.

“Didn't think you were a beach person at all.” John was holding up the legs of his pants as he picked his way across the sand.

“I'm not. Or rather, I don't know if I am.”

John looked over at her, eyebrows raised. “You've never been to the beach?”

Root shrugged. “Didn't get a chance when I was a kid and never found time or the inclination to go later. I've been _on_ beaches, but not doing anything like all this.” She waved an arm to include all the crowd.

“So why come now?”

“I wanted to do something...different.” Technically the trip was to get Reese away from work long enough that he'd stop sulking, but Root was definitely guilty of choosing the destination based on her own agenda. Because while she vastly preferred doing something exciting and a bit dangerous, it was...interesting to do Normal People Things with the others occasionally.

“Well, this is certainly different,” John said.

Up ahead, Shaw had staked out the most isolated patch of beach she could find and was stabbing the umbrella into the sand.

“Reese, you look even more ridiculous than Root,” she said when they caught up.

John wasn't wearing his suit exactly, but he did have on black pants and a button down white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It was probably as close to his trademark suit as he could get without risking heat stroke.

He made a face. “I feel weird wearing normal stuff now.”

Shaw had done slightly better with beach-wear. She was still wearing all black, but at least it was a tank top and shorts. Root didn't feel that either of them were in a position to criticize her style choices when she was the only one who fit in here.

They got the umbrellas set up in the sand and laid out some beach towels under them. Reese had scrounged up two beach chairs from god knows where and immediately claimed one for himself which left Root and Shaw to fight over the second one.

Shaw won the fight, but that just meant Root got to sit between her legs so Shaw could rub sunblock into her back.

Shaw undid the tie on Root's sundress and let it fall down around Root's waist before she trailed a finger along one shoulder and tucked Root's hair to the side. It felt weirdly intimate despite the fact they were on a sunny beach full of loud tourists.

“Surprised this isn't covered in binary code, or something dumb,” Shaw said. Her finger traced lightly across Root's back next to the strap of her swimsuit. Root shivered a little at the sensation.

“Believe me, I looked. The lack of creativity in swimsuit designs is frankly pathetic.”

“This may be a little cold.”

The sunscreen _was_ cold, but Shaw's hands were warm and firm against her shoulders and Root leaned back into her with a happy sigh. She hugged her knees to her chest and tipped her head forward so Shaw could reach all of her back easier.

Shaw's thumbs dug into her back a little harder than was strictly necessary for the task at hand. It felt _good_ and relaxing and combined with the warm air and the smell of the ocean she was ready to stay there a while.

But Shaw was frustratingly efficient and finished far too quickly.

Shaw tapped her on the shoulder. “Lean back.”

Apparently Shaw was being extra thorough today, not that Root minded at all. Shaw started low, fingers gliding across Root's stomach and then up to her ribcage. One hand rose up to wrap around Root's throat and squeeze for the briefest of seconds before continuing down to rub sunblock along one collarbone and then the other.

Root twitched a little when Shaw's fingers crept just the tiniest bit under the top of her swimsuit.

“This what you had in mind for a day at the beach?” Shaw’s voice was a low drawl in her ear.

Something about the fact they were on a crowded beach where anyone could see them made the whole situation more exciting.

From the next chair over John had a very pointed coughing fit.

Shaw’s hands retreated into safer territory.

“You're good to go,” she said, sitting back.

Root moved away from her regretfully. Although…. She took the sunscreen tube from Shaw's hand.

“Your turn, sweetie.”

“Put mine on back at the apartment while someone was lounging in bed.” The corner of Shaw’s mouth quirked up. “But maybe I could use a touch up.”

John stood up. “I think there were some shops up near the parking lot. I'm going to go get ice cream.”

Shaw grinned at his retreating back. “Oops.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw splashed ashore, wiping the water out of her eyes. She'd forgotten how much she enjoyed swimming out in the ocean, getting swept up in the waves.

“You just gonna stand here all day?” she asked when she reached Root.

They'd been here for two hours and Root had yet to get in the water. Admittedly she'd been very busy in that time building a sand...castle. Sort of.

She'd started building some kind of structure out of sand almost immediately, and, by the first time Shaw had taken a break from swimming, she'd convinced Reese to carry buckets of water up from the ocean (in a small green bucket that Shaw wondered if she'd stolen from some kid) to get the sand wet enough for her to build with. Her creation had resembled a long rectangular wall inside of which she was building other structures. Maybe an outside castle wall, Shaw had figured.

When Shaw got back from getting a hot dog at the food stands, Root had still been bent over her sand creation, face hidden by her ridiculous floppy hat. Shaw had stopped to examine her progress and had finally been able to recognize what she was building. Because those were the stairs down from the street and that shell was the vending machine and the smaller room over there was Root's bedroom and the large room was the subway car. She'd even built a little server rack out of shells and stones.

“Isn't the subway kind of the opposite of a castle?” Shaw had asked as she'd finished off her hot dog. She'd had a slight urge to kick a hole in the sand structure because, well, that's what sand castles were for, but it would have upset Root so she’d restrained herself.

“The subway is safe like a castle,” Root had explained. “Especially with all the security features we've added lately. No one's getting in there. It's a...safe place to be.”

Shaw hadn't been sure what to say to that, but she'd brought her back a handful of shells the next time she'd gone back to the water.

Root had finally ventured down to the water about fifteen minutes ago, and had been standing on the edge of the ocean since, close enough that the water lapped at her feet when the waves rushed in.

“Just adjusting to the water," she said in response to Shaw's question.

The water was a little chilly, but Shaw had acclimatized in only a few minutes. “You have to actually get in the water for that to work.”

“In good time.” Root squinted at the waves suspiciously.

Shaw waited until the next wave came up the beach towards them and then bent down and splashed water up at Root.

Root yelped indignantly and moved further up the beach. “ _Sameen_.”

“Just come in the water already.” There was something going on here. It wasn't like Root to be hesitant. She was all about throwing herself headfirst into the unknown.

Root’s lower lip stuck out in a pout as she stayed carefully out of Shaw's reach.

“Come on, it's not like you don't know how to swim, right?”

Root glared.

“Wait–” Shaw stared. “–you don't know how to swim?”

“I can swim.” Root looked sullen. “I mean, I've been in swimming pools before. Lounged next to them anyway. Possibly gotten my feet wet.”

Shaw knew she shouldn't smile right now, but she couldn't help it. “If I'd known that I would have brought you little water wings.”

Root no longer looked sullen; she looked murderous enough that Shaw considered the benefits of a hasty retreat into the ocean.

She was saved from certain death by a wave crashing on the beach behind her, washing the half-stunned body of Reese up next to them.

“Ow.” Reese tried to pick himself up off the sand and then sank back down. “I think a kid with a boogie board broke my back.”

Shaw offered him a hand up, but he waved her away. “No, I think I'll stay here for now.” He groaned. “How did I let you talk me into this?”

Shaw took him at his word and turned back to Root, who had cheered up considerably at Reese's predicament.

“I know you never like to do anything by halves, but this–” Shaw waved a hand at the moderately large waves pounding the beach. “–isn't the greatest place to learn how to swim.”

“I'll manage,” Root said, stiffly.

Shaw could tell she'd offended her. She probably hadn't liked the implication that Shaw thought she couldn't handle swimming in the ocean yet. Which was ridiculous. Shaw dug at the damp sand her feet had become buried in and considered her options.

When she got annoyed about things Root always knew exactly what to say or do to get her mind off it. But now their roles were flipped and she wasn't sure what to do. She wished they'd brought Bear. Having a dog bouncing around was a great way to lighten the mood.

Which gave her an idea.

“I need to do some recon,” she said, looking up at Root. “Wanna come with?”

“Recon?” Root asked doubtfully. “At the beach?”

“Got something I want to scout out. You coming or not?”

Root was still sulking a bit, but her eyes lit up with curiosity. “I suppose so.”

They started back up the beach.

“Don't worry about me,” Reese called after them. “I'll be fine right here.”

 

* * *

 

“Where are we headed?” Root asked as she followed Shaw across the parking lot. She was glad Shaw had made her bring her flip flops because the asphalt looked like it would boil the skin off her feet.

“Just across the road,” Shaw said without looking back.

Root had been directing the question at least in part at the Machine, who hadn't given her an answer. She hadn't agreed to walk Root through swimming earlier either much to her annoyance.

At least she got a great view of the back of Shaw in her two piece swimsuit on this little expedition. She'd follow Shaw right into oncoming traffic as long as she got to keep admiring that view. Which is what almost happened when they reached the road. She instead walked into the arm Shaw had thrown out to stop her.

“Going somewhere?” Shaw asked as a truck flew by in the road in front of them.

The other side of the road was also all sand and sloped down a little hill to another beach. The area they were in was a small peninsula with the ocean on one side, and a protected bay on the other. The bay here was much calmer than the ocean had been, with small waves lapping at the shore. There were only a few families on the beach and all of them had….

“Dogs,” Root said, suddenly understanding the ‘recon’ Shaw had planned.

“This side is a dog beach. Wanted to see if this was a place we could bring Bear someday.”

They watched some kids splashing around in the shallows with a German Shepard. Root could easily imagine Shaw and Bear doing the same.

“Come on.” Shaw headed down the beach towards the water.

Root followed, unsure where they were going now that Shaw had surveyed the dog beach. Did she want to question some of the families about the suitability of the beach for Bear? It sounded silly, but Shaw got that way about her dog sometimes.

Shaw stayed away from the other people, though, and kicked off her shoes when she got near the water. Root had a sneaking suspicion of what she was up to and felt herself frowning again.

It wasn't exactly that she minded that Shaw knew she didn't know how to swim, it was just that, well, she was used to being _good_ at things. She picked up all sorts of things easily and rarely felt out of her depth. She'd figured she'd get to the beach and swimming would happen naturally. But then she'd gotten here and gone down to the water and just sort of frozen. She wasn't sure where to start when it came to the ocean. A pool had possibilities (a shallow end, sides to hold onto, no waves), but the ocean….

“Did you put her up to this?” she asked quietly, but the Machine denied it. And then suggested, politely, that maybe she should get over herself and stop sulking and go enjoy the beach with Shaw. She sulked another minute for the look of things and then gave in and went to join Shaw.

“I wanna go in and get a feel for the waves on this side,” Shaw said. “See where the drop off is. For Bear.”

Root didn't respond, but she took her shoes off and nodded at the unspoken question in Shaw’s eyes.

The water was chilly and the bottom of the ocean was gritty and full of stones and shells. But the small waves felt nice as they waded waist deep into the bay.

Shaw seemed a little awkward now, as if she wanted to give Root some pointers but wasn't sure how to, but fortunately the Machine decided that She could now instruct Root safely and took over. She couldn't see Root here, but She could still explain the basics.

There was a lot of frustrated splashing at first, but Root had always been a fast learner and figured out how to paddle around a bit without too much effort. A little more effort and she could manage to pull herself forward through the water almost-gracefully.

Floating, however, was beyond her.

“It's really simple,” Shaw said again. “You just lie back and let the water hold you up. Your body floats naturally if you don't fight it.” She flopped back into the water to prove it, bobbing easily in the small waves.

Root splashed water at her. “Well, apparently I don't float naturally.”

Shaw flipped back upright, wiping water out of her face. “You've got trust issues about everything else. Guess I shouldn't be surprised that includes water.”

They weren’t too deep here; the water only came up to Shaw's shoulders, so they could both stand easily.

“Most people learn to swim over time,” Shaw said, running her arm under the surface of the water to create a small wave. “I got taught when I was a little kid. Didn't jump in the water and instantly know how to swim, though I did learn really quickly of course. But they made us use shit like kick boards and other dumb flotation devices at first.”

The idea of tiny Shaw with a kick board was unfairly adorable. Root moved closer to her. The water felt nice and the motion of the waves was soothing and it was quieter out here away from the people. It felt a lot like they were in their own private world here.

She slipped up behind Shaw and wrapped her arms around her.

“You can be my flotation device,” she said in Shaw's ear when she stiffened against her. Shaw snorted but relaxed.

“Think you're ready for the ocean?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

“I should probably show you how to tread water first.” Though Shaw didn't seem to be in any hurry to go back.

“Thank you.” She meant it for both Shaw and the Machine, for putting up with her nonsense.

“We can work on your wilderness survival skills next.”

“Hmph.” Root leaned down to nose her way along Shaw's neck. She bit lightly at the side, just below Shaw's jaw. Shaw tasted like salt and faintly like sunscreen.

“You'd better not leave a mark there,” Shaw warned. “The last one finally faded and I’m supposed to go to some fancy party thing with Zoe this week.”

Root backed off with a chuckle and released her.

“Show me this water treading business and let's head back and rescue John.”

 

* * *

 

Shaw looked down at where Reese was sprawled out on their beach towels. He looked like he'd been through the ringer and he was clutching Root's ugly bat doll to his chest for comfort (it must have been one of the things in her overstuffed bag for some reason). Shaw hoped he'd dried off before he'd grabbed it or Root would flay him alive.

“What happened to you?”

“Were you viciously attacked by another child?” Root asked. She'd gotten a smaller towel out of her bag and was trying to dry her hair with it.

“Much worse,” Reese croaked.

“Apparently John is a hero,” Root said, her head tilted in the way that meant she was listening to the Machine. “He rescued a small child who'd gotten swept out to sea.”

“Everyone came over to thank me. I got hugged about fifty times.”

“Yeah, but you're weird and like that sort of thing,” Shaw said.

“Within reason. It's impossible to fade mysteriously into the shadows on a sunny beach.” John shifted on the towels and groaned. “And I think my entire back is sunburned.”

He'd refused all offers to help him get sunscreen on his back for some reason.

“Root and I are going back in the water for a few minutes, and then we can drag your corpse back to civilization.”

“Thank god.” Reese put his arm over his eyes. “Have fun. I'll be here, suffering.”

Root had picked up on the basics of not drowning quickly enough, but the much stronger waves of the ocean gave her trouble still and they returned to shore fairly quickly.

“We'll hit a pool before next time,” Shaw said as they walked up the beach.

“Next time?” Root smiled at her. “Guess you enjoyed yourself after all.”

“I'm not the one who had to be dragged out of bed and spent half the day sulking.”

“Just admit it was a good idea.”

“If the goal was to cheer up Reese, it was a terrible idea.”

Root chuckled. “Fair enough.”

They collected their stuff (and Reese) and headed back to the car, though not before Shaw hit up the food stands for more hot dogs (acceptable because they were at the beach and hot dogs were part of the Beach Experience) and some soft serve ice cream for Root (who would be eating a full dinner when they got back if Shaw had anything to do with it).

The car ride home was quiet since Root fell asleep in the back seat and Reese only groaned in the passenger's seat from time to time. Root woke up when they dropped him off at his apartment, but she stayed silent all the way back home.

“Let's go deal with the sand situation and then get dinner.” Shaw headed towards the bathroom. The beach was all well and good, but she had sand everywhere now and, if they were going to have any fun later, that needed to be dealt with.

“Okay, it was a good idea,” Shaw admitted as they peeled off their damp clothes.

The admission was worth it for the way Root's face lit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually hate the beach unless it's at night for a bonfire. Maybe I should write a bonfire chapter.


	6. The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw has a mission that requires backpacking out in the wilderness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to just be wacky wilderness shenanigans. It ended up being a little more laid-back for whatever reason. I replayed part of Firewatch before writing this, so maybe that's why.

It had been a few years since Shaw had really roughed it out in the wilderness (not counting the night she and Root had been stuck in the woods), and she’d forgotten how much she enjoyed it.

It was partly the quiet she liked. Not that the woods were in any way actually quiet with all the insects and birds and squirrels around, but there was a lack of human noise.

Things out here were simpler, and sometimes that was nice. Being in charge of a team and having to deal with the daily drama and responsibility was downright exhausting and not a life she'd ever imagined for herself, and while she wasn't looking for a way out of that, sometimes she needed somewhere she could breathe for a few days.

The Machine had given her this mission (getting some research data out of a notebook in a distant fire lookout tower in the middle of a vast stretch of national park), but she hadn't told Shaw how to go about it. Shaw easily could have gotten a lot closer by car and reduced the amount of time she'd have to spend outdoors, but the idea of roughing it for a few days had been incredibly appealing and the Machine had assured her there was no real rush.

And now, hiking along a small, dirt trail with the sunlight dappling the ground through the leaves overhead, she was glad she'd made this decision. It felt good to get out and stretch her legs, good to smell things that weren't New York City.

The trail popped out of the trees for a few paces and gave her a great view of the side of the mountain she was halfway up. Trees and more hills as far as the eye could see. A hawk glided by lazily.

She took the opportunity to shrug her heavy pack off for a few minutes and drink some water. On a whim, she pulled her phone out of her pack and checked for messages. She hadn't gotten a signal for over a day so there was no way she should have any new messages, but she still checked regularly.

Just in case.

There weren't any messages this time either, so she dropped the phone on the ground next to her and dug around in her pack for a power bar. The first time she'd gone to get one of them from her pack (two days ago now) she'd been surprised to find that there was a single zip-tie tightened around each individual bar she'd packed. Like some sort of weird kinky bow.

Hopefully the Machine hadn't seen the slight smile that accompanied her rolling her eyes and told Root. She was smug enough without encouragement.

Shaw sliced the zip-tie off with her knife and tucked it into the plastic bag she was using to collect trash. Nowhere out here to throw stuff away, and not keeping food-related trash in a sealed bag was asking for a bear encounter.

She chuckled to herself, remembering the time Root had been worried about bears the night they’d been stuck in the woods hiding from Samaritan. A good thing she wasn't out here now; there were a lot of bears in this area. Though it might have been fun to tease her about it.

On the ground near her knee, her phone vibrated. She narrowed her eyes at it, instantly suspicious, but didn't hesitate to pick it up and check her messages again

_Do you miss her?_

“No, I most definitely do not, you nosy, omniscient, Siri-ripoff.” How was the Machine even getting a message through to her out here? “Don't you have better things to be doing than spying on me?”

_One of the advantages of being a nosy, omniscient, superior artificial intelligence is that I can do many things at once. Such as borrow a satellite to communicate with assets in remote locations._

“Why does one of those things have to be buggin’ me?” There was an obvious answer to that. “Root put you up to this, didn't she?”

_Why do you insist that you do not miss her?_

“Fuck off,” Shaw muttered, but she wasn't really annoyed. She'd gotten used to having someone around to grumble at so it was sort of nice to have a break from the solitude to bicker with the Machine.

She picked at the side of her hiking boot with one nail. “I don't really miss people. Not the way you mean, anyway.” And not the way Root missed her.

_You miss people in your own way. When you think of something funny you wish to share. Or when you are bored and want someone to do something illegal with._

“Sure, but that's not what you meant. Or maybe it was, but it's not what most people mean by missing someone...like that.” Mostly what she felt when she was away from Root was a low undercurrent of concern that Root was getting herself into trouble again or not eating or sleeping enough. But the Machine helped out with that and Shaw knew that she'd let her know if Root needed her help.

She still worried a little sometimes.

_When Root goes into dark zones and I cannot see her or when she is somewhere I cannot get a signal through to, I no longer consider myself to be operating under optimal conditions. This is my equivalent of missing someone, I think. I do not consider that to be any more or less than how others miss each other even if it is different._

“Are you really stealing a satellite to give me a pep talk?” Shaw crumpled her empty power bar wrapper in a way she hoped was threatening. “Because boy do I not need that right now. Or ever.”

_Sorry. I had not meant to discuss this. I was curious. About both of us, I think._

Shaw rolled her eyes. The Machine was so damn all knowing that Shaw sometimes forgot she was still young and learning. And that understanding humans didn't come naturally to her.

“What did you want to discuss? Because I'm about to start hiking again.”

_I wanted to check in. That was all._

Shaw almost rolled her eyes for the second time in under a minute. Root was clearly a bad influence on the Machine. “Well, I'm fine. How's...how's Root?” Because she'd be mad at herself later if she didn't ask.

_She is handling your extended absence by tormenting the others. John Reese is exhibiting extremely high stress levels in particular._

Shaw felt a little lighter. “Sounds like her.”

_May I tell her that you asked after her?_

“Ugh, no.” If Root thought Shaw missed her for even a second she'd probably try to hike across the wilderness on her own and actually get eaten by a bear. “Just keep an eye on her, okay?”

_Enjoy your hike, Shaw._

Shaw jammed her phone back into her pack and got up. She took one last look out at the view before she set off again.

 

* * *

 

Even though it was quite warm during the day, the temperature dropped significantly at night and Shaw slept curled up inside her sleeping bag in her tent. Maybe, she considered, missing someone was like being cold at night when you weren't used to it.

 

* * *

 

Shaw reached the next campground she was staying at earlier than she'd planned the next day. She still had several hours of light that she could hike by, but not enough to make it to the next stopping point, which meant she got some downtime to relax.

She'd just finished setting up her tent when she heard her phone buzz in her bag.

“What now?” She fished it out and looked at the new message. It was only a bunch of numbers and it took her a second to realize what she was seeing.

“These are GPS coordinates, aren't they?”

There was no further response from her phone, so she grabbed her GPS receiver out of her bag and waited for it to acquire satellite connections.

“This better not be what I think it is,” she threatened her phone. “Because I told you not to tell her. So this is all your fault.”

The location from the message on her phone turned out to be about a twenty minute hike from her current location. She left her tent in the campground, but brought most of the rest of her stuff along just in case.

She had to retrace her steps from the day a little and then cut across to a different hill than the one she'd set up camp on. When she got near her destination she pulled her gun out and set her pack down behind a tree. She was on a mission out here, after all, and it always paid to be careful.

She moved quietly up on the location, being careful to muffle her footfalls on the forest floor. She scanned the area for any sign of movement and...came face to face with a pair of hiking boots in mid air.

Shaw sighed and put her gun away.

“Are you stuck in a tree, Root?”

One of the boots twitched a little.

“I'm not stuck. I was...getting myself orientated.”

Shaw finally looked up. Root was perched on a branch part way up a tree, her long legs dangling into space, and her face beaming down at Shaw bright enough to start a forest fire.

“Then you won't need any help getting down.”

“Of course not. Just...don't move for a second?”

Shaw only had half a second to wonder why before Root slipped off the tree branch and smacked into her. They ended up in a tangle of limbs on the forest floor, Shaw crushed under Root.

“Was that necessary?” Shaw groaned. There was a rock digging a hole into her back.

“A little bird told me you were pining away without me,” Root breathed in her ear. She didn't seem to be in any hurry to get off of Shaw.

“I don't pine. I think your machine has been reading too many sappy novels.”

She managed to pull the rock out from under her back and toss it to the side, and then let her hand come to rest on Root's ass since she didn't have anywhere else to place it and Root’s ass was _right there_ so why not.

“You dragged yourself up here for nothing. Whatever the Machine told you was an exaggeration.”

“Are you upset I came to find you?”

Shaw couldn't see Root's face, but she heard the hint of worry in her voice.

“I'm not upset, but you didn't need to come all the way out here for nothing. What if the Machine needed you for a real emergency?”

Root climbed off of her and brushed herself off. “She told me it would be fine.” She offered Shaw a hand up.

Shaw ignored her hand and pulled herself up into a sitting position. “Well, you're free to do whatever, but you didn't need to come.”

Root only shrugged and smiled. “I wanted to.”

Shaw finally took a moment to really look her over. At least someone with some sense had made her dress appropriately for the trip. She was wearing a pair of dark khaki hiking pants and had a warm-looking wool hoodie tied around her waist. She must have bought the hiking boots just for this trip since Shaw didn't think she'd seen them before. The floppy ranger hat on her head was a little bit nerdy, but it would serve its purpose, and she'd actually pulled her hair back for once.

“I came prepared,” Root said, when she saw Shaw scrutinizing her. She reached behind herself to heft a pack off the ground. “See?”

Shaw picked herself up and brushed dirt off her pants. “Where's your tent?”

“She told me I wouldn't need one because you already had one.”

Of course the Machine had said that.

“You can sleep out in the woods. With the bears.”

Root smiled indulgently at her since they both knew that wouldn't be happening.

“How'd you even get out here?” Shaw asked as they retrieved her pack and started back towards the campsite.

“John and I stole a helicopter.”

“ _Reese_ is here, too?”

“Well, I had wanted to load him up with all the gear like a little pack mule, but someone had to fly the helicopter back out. I jumped out and he took it back, but he's close enough that he could come get us if something happened.”

“So he could come pick you up and take you home.”

“If that's what you want.” Root sounded a little too casual.

“That's not what...you don't even like this sort of thing, Root. And now you know I'm okay, so you could go back if you wanted.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

Shaw decided to drop the topic in favor of getting them back to the campsite before dark. She could tell that Root wasn't nearly as happy as she'd been when she'd first found her, but they could deal with that once they were safely back.

 

* * *

 

The Machine had been quiet since Root had ended up in the woods. Whether that was because She couldn't reach Root or because She was having second thoughts about helping her get here, Root wasn't sure.

She was definitely having second thoughts about being here.

“Love what you've done with the place,” she said when they got back to Shaw's campsite. It was an actual campsite set up for backpackers with a cleared area for tents and a stone pit for a fire. Shaw was currently the only occupant.

“Better than sleeping in a tree.”

Root had been up the tree in the hopes that getting to higher ground and putting less branches between herself and the sky would help the Machine get a message through and tell her where the hell she'd ended up. Data trees she could navigate with ease, but regular trees were dumb.

She stayed quiet while Shaw busied herself around the campsite. She wanted to offer to help, but this was much more Shaw's world than hers. She did pay attention when Shaw called her over and made her watch how she got the fire started (apparently her normal arson methods weren't acceptable out here). And she felt a little better when Shaw offered to share her dinner with her (some kind of freeze dried stew in a bag that she dumped boiling water heated over the fire into). It wasn't great, but Root wasn't going to complain. Shaw never shared food, so maybe she'd been forgiven for dropping in on her.

After they’d finished eating and Shaw had safely disposed of the food and stored the rest in a bag over a branch high up, they both ended up sitting quietly near the fire. Root knew she should probably start the conversation that she felt was needed, but some part of her was reticent to. So they sat.

It had gotten a lot colder after the sun had gone down, and, even with the fire, Root reached for the hoodie she'd tied around her waist and considered getting the heavy jacket from her bag. She had her hoodie halfway over her head when she heard Shaw get up.

She cursed herself; without having a conversation first, things were going to be awkward in the tent. Maybe she _should_ sleep out in the woods with the bears.

She was a little startled when she felt an extra weight on her shoulders and looked up to see Shaw had come back and dropped a blanket on her. She wrapped it around herself a little more firmly and hid a smile. Maybe she wasn't banned to the woods quite yet.

Shaw settled back down, a little closer than she'd been before, wrapped in her own blanket. She picked up a stick from the ground and jabbed the fire with it.

Well, no more putting it off, Root decided.

“I'm sorry I ruined your getaway vacation.”

Shaw shifted a little under her blanket and prodded the fire more. “You didn't ruin anything.”

“You wanted to have some time alone out here, I get that. I should have thought about that before John and I stole a helicopter from the army.”

“From the….” Shaw shook her head. “Neither of you has ever heard of subtlety.” The fire got another poke, sparks flying up in all directions. “I don't mind that you're here, Root.”

It sounded like the truth and Root immediately felt better. She wanted to prompt Shaw for more, but made herself wait quietly to give her time to elaborate on her own.

“The Machine asked me if I missed you. And...I'm not sure I did. Not the way you miss me when I'm gone. I don't know exactly what the Machine told you, but whatever it was made you come running all the way out here for no reason. And that...it doesn't seem fair, you know?”

Root let out the breath she'd been holding for the duration of Shaw's explanation. “The Machine told me you were fine and that you'd asked after the team. That was it. I came out here because I wanted to.”

Shaw finally looked away from the fire to squint at her. “What was all that about me pining then?”

Root chuckled. “That was just me, sweetie. I was trying to find a good way to turn it into a pine joke. You know, like pine trees. But I got distracted when you grabbed my ass.”

“Pine trees. Really, Root?”

“You ruined a great pun, Shaw. Not that I minded at the time.” She scooted a little closer to Shaw so their sides pressed together. “As for missing me, well, missing someone isn’t fun so I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I think being glad when someone's here is more important than being sorry when they're not.”

“Well, I am,” Shaw said, quickly. “Glad you're here, I mean. It, uh, it gets cold at night.”

“I noticed.” Root used that as an invitation to press a little more up against Shaw.

“And I think…” Shaw tapped her stick against the edge of the fire pit a few times. “I think I did miss you. Maybe not the same way you mean it, but I think...yeah, I think it's something like that maybe….” She trailed off and started a fresh assault on the fire, jabbing it with extra force.

Root had meant what she said, but she still couldn't help but feel a hypocritical burst of satisfaction at Shaw's admission. “So on a scale of one to ten, one being not at all, and ten being _extreme_ pining, how…”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Shaw sounded amused though.

“Does this mean I don't have to sleep in the woods then?”

“We both know you'd crawl into my tent in like five minutes.”

“True.”

The tension that had been there the whole time finally faded away and Root leaned more of her weight against Shaw.

“Don’t suppose you brought marshmallows?” she asked.

“No. Wasn't on my list of essentials somehow. Why? Did you?”

“I forgot in the rush.” The few hours Root had spent preparing for the spontaneous trip were all something of a blur.

“Too bad.” Shaw actually sounded disappointed.

“Maybe next time,” Root said before cracking a huge yawn.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Hmmm, over a day ago, I think. There was a lot to do.”

Shaw stood up. “Come on. I'm not carrying you off this mountain if you pass out.” She held out her hand to help Root up.

Shaw had to put out the fire and give Root a lecture on fire safety before Root was allowed to creep into the dubious warmth of the tent. The tent felt tinier inside than it had looked, probably made for a single person. Shaw got it set up for the night swiftly and efficiently, pausing every once in a while to explain what she was doing to Root.

“Will there be an exam later?” Root asked as she watched Shaw arrange their zipped-together sleeping bags on top of the foam sleeping pads.

“No, but someday you might need to know this stuff. Machine sends you on all sorts of random missions. You end up stuck in the woods, then some basic skills could save, uh, could be useful.”

It took a little while to warm up once they were both inside the sleeping bags. There was a little bit of shoving and rearranging until they finally found a way to fit comfortably with Shaw curled up around Root's back.

Root hadn't slept in the woods more than twice in her life, and neither time had been very pleasant. This was definitely an upgrade, though she was still a bit annoyed at just how _loud_ the woods were at night. So many bugs and things scurrying around and owls and a million other things she didn't have to deal with in the city. Some of the things scurrying around sounded a bit...large.

“Sameen?”

“I'm sleeping.”

“What if a bear shows up?”

Shaw blew out a warm breath on the side of her neck. “What is it with you and bears?”

“I'm being serious, Shaw. What do we do if a bear shows up?”

“We leave the area as quietly as we can.”

“What if it follows us?”

“I have bear spray in my bag. Now let me sleep, okay?”

It was quiet for a few minutes and then Shaw spoke up again out of nowhere.

“It's, uh, it's a lot warmer with you here.”

“You too hot?” She was too tired to even make a joke out of it.

“No. I'm…. I'm good like this.”

Root waited another minute but Shaw had apparently said all she was going to say. She wriggled back into Shaw a little more and settled down to sleep.

 

* * *

 

It was a little strange to see Root out here in the wilderness, Shaw realized somewhere around the third hour of their hike the next morning. Even when she was wandering around their apartment in pajamas, Root still had a way of looking casually elegant. Out here there wasn't a lot of room for that.

No makeup, she'd barely had time to run a comb through her hair before pulling it back this morning, and there was a smudge of dirt across one of her cheeks that Shaw kept wanting to tell her to wipe off.

“What type is that one?” Root pointed at a tree that looked exactly like every other tree in the area.

Shaw sighed. The price of teaching Root some basic outdoor skills was getting quizzed on the dumbest things. Earlier she'd tried to teach her how to walk quietly in the woods and had been mostly successful, but since then Root kept asking inane questions, probably just to mess with her.

“How should I know? A big tree, okay? Why don't you ask the Machine?”

“She can only get messages through sometimes out here. And She can't recognize trees She can’t see.”

The trail they were on was going steadily upwards and Root was a bit flushed and out of breath. Not enough out of breath to prevent unnecessary questions about trees, but Shaw figured that might be her way of covering for how much the climb was taking out of her.

“Why do you need to know what type of tree it is anyway?”

“What if it's poisonous?”

“Just don't try to eat a tree, okay?” She was happy to play along and keep Root's mind occupied, but this was a ridiculous conversation.

“What if I need to poison someone else?” Root grinned at her, showing off all her teeth, which okay, was a bit hot.

“Out here there are a lot better ways to kill someone.”

“Oh, really?” Root looked far more interested now than she had earlier when Shaw had been trying to show her how to use a compass.

“Sure, nudge someone off a cliff out here and it'll look like an accident. Steal their water filters and food and anything they could use to find help and they're in trouble.”

Root tapped a finger against her lips. “You've thought about this.”

“Obviously.” It was always good to know what her options were.

“That's _so_ adorable, sweetie.”

Shaw chucked a pine cone at her.

 

* * *

 

“The good news for you is that's where we're heading up ahead.” Shaw pointed at the wooden structure at the top of the mountain ahead. “And we can take a much shorter way out, be back in civilization the day after tomorrow. Less if Reese wants to drive to a pick up point and meet us.”

“I don't mind being out here,” Root protested (though Shaw thought she looked relieved). “What’s this place we're going to?”

“It's a lookout tower. Someone sits up in that tower and keeps an eye out for smoke and sparks from storms. They call in anything they see. Helps stop fires before they can really get started.”

“Sounds dull.”

“Think a lot of people do it to escape the world.”

Technically that was why she'd been out here, but only to escape some parts. She'd meant what she'd said about being glad Root was out here, especially since Root had that way of saying the right thing to make her feel okay about all of it.

“Have you ever thought about doing something like that?” Root shielded her eyes with one hand to get a better look at the distant tower.

“Not really. Or not for that long, anyway. Like you said, dull. A week or two of hiking is okay, but a few months of nothing to do would get old really fast.”

“What if there were something to...do?”

Somehow Root had gone from observing the tower to being right up in Shaw's space, backing her up against the nearest unidentifiable tree and planting a hand on either side of her to trap her there.

“You're not getting out of the rest of the hike by fucking me against a tree.” Shaw didn't miss the opportunity to get in a bit of indiscreet butt-groping though. She liked to think of herself as an opportunist.

“Fine, but how about a little break then? Call it a morale booster.” Root leaned down so her lips were almost brushing Shaw's.

“I haven't had a shower in three days and you've got dirt caked under your nails. So no.” They could probably have made something work, but there was still had a good bit of hiking ahead of them so it was no good encouraging Root.

But she didn't protest when Root kissed her, and she let the minor makeout session go on for a few minutes, just long enough that they both were breathing a little too hard and Shaw was sporting an exciting, new bite mark on her neck.

“We need to get up there before it gets dark,” Shaw said, pushing lightly on Root to get her to back off.

“Where are we staying tonight?” Root asked as they set off up the trail again. “Won't it be risky to stay too near the tower if there's someone in it?”

“According to the research I did before I came out here, the guy staying there will be in the nearest town today and tomorrow. Guess even the lookouts go stir crazy sometimes and take a few days off back where there's showers and internet. So we can stay right up near the tower.”

It took them less time than Shaw had expected to make it to the tower. She'd been planning on slowing down a little for Root, but Root had stubbornly pushed ahead the whole way. Shaw suspected she'd regret that later, but she also knew better than to try and talk Root into taking it easy.

“Looks cozy,” Root said as they reached the base of the tower.

It was a wooden structure with the cabin perched high off the ground on top of scaffolding. There was a flight of stairs wrapped around the side to get to the top.

“Are you sure this whole thing isn't going to blow over in a stiff breeze?” Root asked, prodding the scaffolding suspiciously.

“This tower has been out here a long time. Through some major storms. It's safe enough.” Shaw hadn't minded the tough hike up, but, after all that, the stairs looked awful. There was no putting it off though. “Come on.”

The tower was a little too creaky for Shaw's taste, but it felt solid enough. The cabin at the top was a single room with windows all around the outside for a 360 degree view of the wilderness. There wasn't much in the cabin: a bed, a little stove, a desk covered with notebooks, some equipment and maps, and a few photos stuck to one wall.

“What're we looking for here?” Root examined the photos with an expression that Shaw recognized as extreme judgment. And okay sure maybe the guy in most of them looked kind of like an asshole. He didn't even have a dog.

“One of these notebooks. This guy's been keeping a record of some of the hiker activity in the area and I guess the Machine wants it for some reason or another.”

“Drug trafficking,” Root guessed. “Something trafficking. Or maybe corpse disposal? Hard to keep tabs on things out here unless you're a nosy fire lookout.”

They dug through the notebooks and ended up taking pictures of almost all the pages just in case.

“Think we got it, though still got no clue what she wants with it.” Shaw tucked her camera away carefully.

“Good.” Root flipped the last notebook shut with one finger. “Can we get out of this thing before it blows over?”

 

* * *

 

Root woke up when she felt Shaw slip out of the sleeping bag behind her.

“Sameen?”

She could see her silhouette crouched nearby.

“Hear that?” Shaw asked quietly.

“Hear what?”

Right on time a loud roll of thunder boomed across the wilderness.

“We need to move.” Shaw started stuffing things into her pack. “Get up into the tower for the night.”

Root was fully awake now, the threat of the storm clearing her head. “Won't it be more dangerous up in the tower?”

“It's grounded. Safer than we are in the open here.”

There hadn't been a good campsite nearby, so they'd pitched their tent on the hill near the tower. At the time it had seemed like a good idea to Root (since it was further from the treeline and all the things hiding therein), but now it felt unnecessarily exposed.

The first raindrops started to fall as they climbed back up the stairs. The entire structure was shaking in the wind and Root was convinced every little noise was going to be the one that meant the tower was going to collapse under them.

They made it inside before the rain really started falling, and secured all the windows and the door as best they could in the dark.

“We turn a light on now and it'll be dead obvious we're here,” Shaw said. She pointed out across the darkness. “See?”

Root squinted through the sheets of rain that were falling to see a distant glowing light on top of another mountain. “Another lookout?”

“Yeah, most likely. If we have to turn the lights on, we will, but then we'll need to get out of here really early tomorrow and probably cut through a different route on the way back. Rather not do that.”

Lightning crawled across the sky, the clearest strike Root had ever seen. There was something truly spectacular about the way it scribbled a bright trail of branches through the darkness before it vanished, leaving only the glow of it fading in her vision.

Shaw looked at her a little funny. “You look like you just won the lottery.”

“I love thunderstorms. Not being stuck in tiny, rickety, fire-traps on top of a hill during them, but in general.”

“Yeah, I remember you dragged me out in a hurricane once.”

It felt a little weird to sleep in someone else's bed, so they piled their sleeping bags on top of it. With the rain pelting the windows and the thunder shaking the tower, sleep wasn't going to be easy, so they ended up sitting in the sleeping bag on the bed, propped up against the wall.

The Machine had been able to talk to Root much more freely once she'd been up on the exposed hill, and while the storm was messing with the signals a little, She could still get through well enough to play some music for Root. It was music Root hadn't heard before. Storm music maybe from the sound of it.

“She playing music for you?”

Root glanced at Shaw, wondering how she'd known. Shaw looked pleased with herself.

“You do this thing with your face when she's talking to you. Total giveaway.”

“I do not.” Ridiculous.

Shaw snorted. “Do you think, uh, do you think she'd put the music on the radio over there? I mean, if it's okay with you.”

Root had to restrain the huge smile that threatened to take over her entire face. “She'd be more than happy to.”

The music was a little more staticy over the radio speakers, but still audible. Shaw settled back against the wall, looking content.

“This is kind of fun,” Root said into the darkness a few minutes later.

“That's because you have a weird thunderstorm kink.”

Shaw had slumped against her a little, half-asleep despite the thunder and rain. The storm made Root feel alive and energized, but Shaw didn't seem to get the same kick out of it.

Root used Shaw's semi-unconscious state to capture her hand and entwine their fingers. It wasn't something she did often, but it felt like being stuck in a shack on a mountain in a storm was a good excuse for some hand holding time. Shaw grumbled a little, sleepily, but her fingers curled back around Root's.

“You're going to be dead tired in the morning if you don't sleep.”

“Don't think I can sleep with the storm outside.” It was too exciting. Another streak of lightning crawled across the sky, almost in slow motion, and Root's breath caught a little.

“I guess it's kinda cool,” Shaw admitted. “Glad you got to see it.” The last was said quietly and a bit defensively.

“Me, too.”

“Seriously, you're like a little kid the night before Christmas. Waiting up for Santa.”

Root watched the rain roll down the windows for a few minutes before she decided on an answer. “Santa is overrated. Storms are much better.”

“Obviously.” Shaw's head lolled to one side and briefly rested on Root's shoulder before she jerked awake. “Can you try to sleep? Or can we at least lie down?”

They rearranged so they were lying down with Root on the outside so she could watch the storm, and Shaw tucked in behind her, her arm slung loosely over Root's waist, still holding her hand.

Shaw fell asleep almost immediately, but Root stayed up until the storm passed and then drifted off to the sound of Shaw breathing and the Machine’s music playing over the speakers.

 

* * *

 

“I'd forgotten about the mud situation.” Root lifted her foot out of a particularly deep mud puddle, her boot pulling free from the mire with a pop.

“The aftermath of your fun rainstorms.” Shaw was glad someone (probably the Machine) had insisted on Root getting hiking boots for this trip.

Shaw had woken Root up at the crack of dawn to get them underway, and had been dealing with her cranky, caffeine-deprived grumbling ever since.

Well, she'd told her not to stay up for the storm, but Root had looked so happy about it that she wasn't too annoyed.

It was bewildering what she'd put up with to see Root look happy.

“Reese is meeting us at one of the drive-in points for the trail, so you can be back in a hotel with a hot shower by tonight.” Shaw carefully avoided some more mud.

“Sounds wonderful.”

“You over the outdoors already? Because you made it almost two days without wifi. Probably a record.” Except that time they'd thought the Machine was gone and Root hadn’t touched a computer for weeks, but hopefully she wasn't thinking about that now.

“I think in the future pre-planned camping trips might be acceptable, but no backcountry backpacking trips. At least not right away,” Root said, stepping daintily over a puddle. “Maybe I can work up to that.”

“You should start running with me in the morning. It'll help.”

Root had made pathetic noises when she'd tried to get her stiff limbs to function this morning. Shaw could already tell she was going to be coerced into giving her a rub down later. Not that she minded at all.

“Does it have to be in the morning?”

“We'll see.” It was the first time Root hadn't outright rejected the idea so Shaw was willing to consider a compromise.

They reached the little parking lot near an overgrown road that allowed hikers to drive into the wilderness a little and get a head start on the trails. There was only one car in the lot and Reese was leaning against it.

“Well, this feels familiar,” Root said as they went to meet him.

“Especially the part where you two are covered in mud.” Reese looked pristinely clean in his suit.

“No Bear, though,” Shaw said regretfully. She'd known he hadn't been along, but she was still disappointed.

“No, but--” Reese reached back into the car and came up with a greasy bag that smelled amazing. “--seem to remember I promised to bring food for you next time you got lost in the woods.”

Shaw snatched the bag. “Root was the only one who got lost.”

“Briefly disoriented,” Root corrected. “Did you bring me any?”

Reese handed her a second bag and then motioned for them to both get in. “There's a sign over there about not sitting around with food here. Bears, I guess.”

Root practically flew into the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maarika did an adorable piece of art of Root's crash landing on Shaw. [ Check it out](https://themaarika.tumblr.com/post/175884772108/from-a-fic-by-asleepinawell)!


	7. Un-con-ventional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mayhem Triplets go to a convention or two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possibly even sillier than the beach episode? Also some cute parts.
> 
> In honor of comic con being this coming weekend (even though I hate comic con).

“Reese?” Shaw whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “What the hell is this place?”

Reese didn't respond, and when Shaw risked a quick glance at him she saw his face twisted into a grimace of truly epic proportions. Well, she couldn't blame him for that.

The hotel lobby they were standing in was full of one of the strangest collections of people Shaw had ever had the misfortune to find in one place. There were people with glowing skin implants on their arms and faces, people with robotic limbs, people wearing helmets and goggles that looked like they belonged on space ships, and a truly unprecedented number of trench coats.

“Root,” Shaw hissed over comms, “I thought you said this was a programming convention?”

“It _is_ a programming convention, sweetie.” It was impossible to tell over comms where Root was speaking from. She was supposed to be here already, but Shaw had yet to see her.

“Then why does the lobby of the hotel look like the rejects from a Tron casting call? I thought this was going to be a bunch of nerds with laptops.” Shaw dodged out of the way of someone wheeling along what was probably supposed to be a life-size replica of some sort of flying motorcycle on a wagon.

“Those are just cosplayers, Shaw. Turns out there's actually two conventions in this hotel this weekend. Poor planning on somebody's part,” Root said. “Especially these two conventions specifically.”

“Is one of them a Star Wars convention or something?” Reese asked. He still looked shaken by their surroundings.

“Wrong type of science fiction, Lurch, but thanks for playing. You're looking at the attendees of CyberCon, a cyberpunk fan convention mostly focused on cosplay and art.”

Shaw met Reese’s eyes to share in a moment of pure suffering.

“On the other side of the hotel is the Artificial Intelligence Association convention,” Root continued, “which would be the nerds with laptops convention you had in mind.”

“And our number is at the nerd convention, right? The laptop nerds, I mean. Right?”

There was ominous silence over the comm.

“ _Root_.”

“I hate everything,” Reese said, mournfully.

“Who are you two supposed to be?”

Shaw turned to find a very short RoboCop addressing them. Reese was wearing a suit and she had on a black coat and jeans so they didn't really fit in.

“We're, uh, we're not here for…” Shaw looked at Reese for help. He actually enjoyed talking to kids; he could handle this.

“We're, uh, secret agents fighting against, uh…” Reese looked around desperately.

“An evil Artificial Intelligence and a corrupt government agency,” Shaw finished for him.

Tiny RoboCop studied them for a long moment and then thrust out his hand in a thumbs-up. “Cool!” He closed his hand into a fist and held it out towards them.

Shaw exchanged a quick look with Reese, glaring at him until he stepped forward and lightly tapped his fist against RoboCop’s.

“See you guys inside!” RoboCop zoomed away.

“This is bad.” Reese looked like he was on the verge of bolting out the door.

“I'm going to murder her.”

“Who are you murdering, sweetie?” Root's voice came from behind them now rather than over the comms.

Shaw turned around, ready to demand an explanation for their current ridiculous situation, and froze.

“Something the matter, Sameen?”

Root might not have been dressed up like all the cosplayers in the lobby, but she was definitely dressed up. The black pant suit looked like it had been custom tailored to fit her, and the white shirt beneath had the top three buttons undone. The heels were higher than Root usually wore, but the grand finale of the outfit was the stupidly sexy librarian glasses perched on her nose.

Shaw opened and shut her mouth, cleared her throat, and failed to remember how words worked.

“You look very professional, Root,” Reese said. “You here on a mission for the Machine?”

“Something like that.” Root played with a single lock of her hair. It looked like she'd done something to it to make it extra wavy and had it always been that shiny?

“I'm a VIP guest actually, a presenter at the AI convention.” She slid the glasses down her nose a little with one finger. “Do I look like a top authority on the future of artificial intelligence?”

Shaw cleared her throat again. “You look...very, uh, very nice.” She turned away to look over the menagerie in the lobby again. “So, who's our number?”

“One thing at a time,” Root hovered behind Shaw, one hand discreetly brushing her butt. “Let's get checked in.”

Root slipped away through the crowd towards the check-in desk.

“You okay there, Shaw?” Reese sounded far too amused.

“Shut the fuck up, Reese.”

Shaw had mostly managed to recover her equilibrium by the time they all got on the elevator up to their rooms.

“This one's yours, John.” Root handed Reese a room key.

Reese pocketed it. “I'll put my stuff in my room and then we can go after the number.”

“Give us an hour to, uh, unpack.” Shaw glared at Reese, daring him to comment.

Reese looked back and forth between the two women, assessing his options before responding. “I think unpacking might take me two.”

“Probably a safe call,” Root agreed.

The elevator dinged for their floor and they all hastily exited and made their way to their rooms. Shaw noted that Reese was several doors down from them, which was surprisingly merciful of Root. Or maybe the Machine.

“So, I look nice, do I?” Root asked once they were in their room. She grinned at Shaw, bit her lower lip, and tilted her head to one side.

Shaw kicked her suitcase further into the room and stalked over to back Root up against the door.

“I suppose you're really attached to this, huh?” she asked, pulling on the collar of the suit jacket.

“A bit, but She had three made for me, almost like She knew some of them might run into an...accident.” Root curled her hands around the back of Shaw's neck.

Shaw grinned. “Remind me to thank her later.”

* * *

 

“Your number is Margery Jenson, an independent artist who does original cyberpunk work focusing on environments and ship designs.” Root paged through a couple designs on her laptop for the others to see.

Margery really was quite good; maybe Root would make time to go buy a few pieces to hang in her room. That was, if Margery turned out to be the victim. If she was the perpetrator then Root could just steal them with a clear conscious.

“Any ideas who might want to off an art nerd?” Shaw asked. She stood behind Root's chair at the little table in their hotel room looking far more recovered from the last two hours than Root felt.

“Well, the AI convention and CyberCon aren't on the best of terms, for obvious reasons.”

Reese frowned. “What obvious reasons?” He’d been doing his best not to look around their hotel room since he'd come over, as if afraid he'd see something that might scar him for life.

“The attendees of the AI convention consider themselves “serious” architects of the future. The entire cyberpunk aesthetic that deals heavily with the abuse of technology in the future is not the happy AI world they're working for.” Root shrugged. “Though half of them dress up and sneak into CyberCon anyway.”

“Someone should tell them the AI apocalypse already happened.” Shaw leaned over Root's shoulder to get a closer look at a detailed blueprint of a spaceship. Root tried very hard not to stare at her lips, or her jawline, or her neck, or….

Apparently the last two hours had only gotten her more riled up, though it was probably partially anticipation for what was about to happen.

“I'm actually here to deal with that,” Root said, dragging her eyes away from Shaw's unfairly perfect face. “She wants me to present some revolutionary research on AI that will help send the best minds down the wrong path for the next few years.”

“To prevent anyone from making an AI to challenge her?” Reese asked.

“To prevent another Samaritan. Would you trust anyone to make a benevolent AI?” Root knew she wouldn't, not even herself. Maybe especially not herself. “Also it would be improbable for two AI to coexist harmoniously.”

“And while you're off saving the world with powerpoint slides, we're protecting this kid.” Shaw had pulled up a picture of Margery. “Other than the stick-up-their-ass programmers, anyone else have it out for her?”

Root stole control of the keyboard back and pulled up another picture. “Hank Wentworth, another artist at the convention. They used to date, but he couldn't handle the fact her art was more popular than his and she dumped him for being a dick about it.”

Reese stepped forwards to get a better look. “Even if he's not the perp, he could probably use a good punch in the face.”

Shaw nodded. “He should learn to suffer for his art. Let's go pay him a visit.”

“First thing's first,” Root said, closing her laptop. “You two need to look the part for the con.”

Shaw’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “No. No way.”

Root’s smile was an insincere apology. “Afraid so.” She grabbed the second suitcase she'd brought off the bed. “Don't worry, She calculated the least objectionable costumes possible for you two.”

Reese was staring blankly ahead in horror. “I'm pretty sure I've had a nightmare that's gone like this.”

Root started pulling piles of black clothing out of her suitcase. “At least it will match your color scheme.”

* * *

 

Root surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. Reese and Shaw stood awkwardly next to each other, both avoiding each other's gaze. Shaw looked openly furious and Root suspected she should have brought more than three suits because she was definitely going to owe Shaw big time later.

The black pants and shirts weren't objectionable, except that they were skin-tight and made of slightly shiny material. It was unfortunate Root couldn't stare at Shaw's ass in the tight pants, but the ankle-length trench coats hid a lot of Reese and Shaw from view. The crowning touch were the black wrap shades they both had on.

Root blocked out the way Reese was shifting uncomfortably in his tight pants to focus on memorizing how completely sexy and badass Shaw looked. She hoped the Machine was taking tons of pictures like She'd promised to, because this was definitely something she wanted to remember forever.

“For the record, I hate you.” Shaw tried to tuck her gun into the back of her extremely tight pants, but quickly gave up.

“I'll make it up to you later, sweetie.”

“I'm in hell.” Reese shoved irritably at his sunglasses. “The lowest circle of hell.”

“Isn't the Matrix a bit dated now?” Shaw pulled a belt holster out of her bag for the gun. “Some of those kids down there weren't even alive when the first movie came out.”

“Yes, but you're both old enough that no one will think it's weird.”

Shaw clenched her teeth. “Not making this any better, Root.”

“Let's just get this over with,” Reese said with an air of resignation.

“You owe me big time,” Shaw hissed at Root as they headed for the door. “And so does the Machine. I want a new car. Maybe two.”

In Root's ear, the Machine was protesting the practicality of owning a car in Manhattan, but Root ignored Her for now.

“Of course, sweetie. Anything you want.”

“Hmph.” But Shaw was smiling a little now. “That's more like it.”

* * *

 

“How the hell are we supposed to find anyone in this mess?” Shaw asked Reese as they lurked on the edges of the con crowds.

The main convention hall for CyberCon was fairly large and packed full of cosplayers of all sizes, shapes, and fake robotic prosthetics. Shaw had already broken some sleazy dude's fingers for trying to grab her ass and had seriously considered dragging him out back and breaking his arms as well--the real ones and the robot one.

“According to this, artist alley is over--” Reese looked up from the con program and pointed. “--there.”

“Guess we should see if we can get eyes on Margery and Hank.”

They elbowed their way through the crowds, trying not to get their trench coats caught on anyone else's costumes. Shaw paused to untangle someone's space blaster from her coat for the third time. Root wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight paying her back for these indignities.

She wondered how Root's presentation preparations were going. She'd seemed weirdly anxious about the whole thing, almost like she was nervous. Very unusual since there was no doubt in either of their minds that Root was much smarter than anyone at her silly convention would be. Maybe she'd bring it up later.

“That's Margery.” Reese indicated a table in one of the rows of artists.

Margery was in the middle of completing a transaction with a fan and Shaw took the opportunity to wander over to her table and get a look at what she had for sale.

“I'm going to go find Hank,” Reese whispered to her, before slipping away.

Shaw looked over all the prints on the table. Margery really was quite a good artist; she could see why Root liked her stuff so much.

“Anything catch your eye?”

Shaw hadn't meant to end up talking to their number, but Margery was looking right at her.

“Still looking. But, uh, these are really good. Best I've seen here today. Bet you make a lot of the other artists jealous with talent like this.”

Margery smiled without humor. “Only the grossly insecure ones.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Margery sighed. “I unfortunately dated one of the other artists for a while. He's here, too. He keeps walking by my booth and staring at me. It's kind of creepy.”

Sounded like Hank had a good chance of being the perp. Shaw wondered if Reese had found him yet.

“Guys like that are the worst.” Shaw had run into a few men like that over the years throughout her various careers, but she’d been well-equipped to deal with them.

“He got really nasty after I dumped him. Kept going on about how girls could never be “real” scifi fans and we were just doing it to attract men. He acted like I should be grateful he'd dated me.”

“Well, if I see him, I'll be sure to break his fingers for you.”

Margery looked startled and then laughed a little nervously, unsure if it was a joke.

“Uh, I'll take these.” Shaw hastily held up a bunch of prints.

As soon as she moved away from the table she called Reese on the comm.

“Think our boy Hank is very likely the perp. He's been stalking her all day.”

“I found his table here,” Reese responded. “Had a gun in his bag. I was going to take it, but then I thought I might tip off security instead.”

“I promised Margery I'd break his fingers.” Shaw could see Reese now, lurking near a table further down the aisle. And yeah, Hank looked like a real piece of work.

“Hmm, I could possibly lure him away. There's a quiet spot over behind the catering area.” Reese jerked his head to indicate where.

“Tell him someone wants to meet him and point me out. Little creep won't be able to resist.” Something occurred to Shaw. “One second.”

She pushed through the crowd to Reese and handed him the prints she'd bought. She didn't want them getting bent.

“Didn't take you for an art fan, Shaw.”

“They're for Root.” Never mind the fact she thought they were cool, too, and that one of them was actually for her. “Better than what she usually hangs in her room.”

“Thought you were mad at her for the whole cosplay thing.”

“I am, but not like _mad_ mad.” Exasperated? Yes. Disgruntled? Possibly. Mad? No. Not over something silly like this. This was the unserious sort of mad where neither of them were legitimately upset and it was mostly an excuse to have more sex later. “I'll give them to her after she gets over gloating about all this.”

Reese smirked. “You know, you're not half as bad at all this as you keep saying you are.”

Shaw groaned. She didn't need this today on top of everything else. “Just...send the little creep over so I can break his nose.”

“I thought it was his fingers.”

“I'm feeling generous, so the nose is a free bonus.”

She cracked her knuckles as she headed for the food court, but something caught her eye on the way.

“I'll give you a hundred bucks for this.” Shaw held up a folded bill enticingly in front of another attendee.

The kid pocketed the bill and shoved their prop at Shaw.

She continued to the food court, taking a couple practice swings with her brand new, shiny, katana with glowing circuitry engraved on the blade. It wasn't a real weapon, probably made of some sort of fiberglass, but it did look really cool and somehow it felt fitting to smash it over Hank.

And if the sword survived she could give it to Root as a second present.

* * *

 

Root closed the lid of her laptop with a sigh. She'd poked at her presentation long enough for one day. At this point all she as doing was nitpicking.

Time to check in on the kids then.

“How's the convention, sweetie? Have you dealt with our number yet?”

The background noise of the convention almost drowned out Shaw's voice over the comm. “Yeah, we watched the police haul Hank off about half an hour ago.”

“See? That wasn't so bad, was it?” Though that raised a question. “Why are you still at the convention if you finished with the number?”

“Figured we'd stick around and make sure Hank was the only threat. Also, I can't find Reese.”

Root waited a second and then smiled when Her voice filled her ear. “She says the number is safe now, and check the south-east corner of the hall.”

“On it.” Shaw didn't cut the call off like Root had expected. “How's your presentation thing coming?”

Root ran a hand over the closed lid of her laptop. “Okay, I guess.”

“I’m going to head back up to the room in a minute. We should...hold on.”

Shaw once again didn't cut the call off so Root could hear what followed pretty clearly.

“What the hell are you doing, Reese?”

Reese's voice was a bit more distant but Root could just make it out.

“I'm...working.”

“You're crouched down behind a table. How is that working?”

“It’s complicated. I had to break up a fight between some cyborgs and a couple of those programmers from the other convention who snuck in. And after, I had to make a cool exit, you know, like we do. But the crowd was too dense to slip away that way, so I used the backup method.”

“Ohhh, mysteriously vanishing by ducking behind something. A classic. One which I've never been forced to use.”

“Bullshit. You climbed up a drainpipe to vanish on that number last week. Same difference.”

Root held back a laugh.

“Climbing up something is way cooler than hiding behind a parked car.”

“Not all of us are cats, Shaw. Anyway, those guys were still in the area, so I couldn't find a smooth way to unvanish. I've been hanging out down here until the crowd thins a little.”

“Well, I'm leaving. You can either suck it up and un-mysteriously reappear or stay down there all night.”

Root got up from the desk and went to curl up on the hotel bed so she could listen in comfort. The banter continued.

“Do you see any cyborgs nearby?”

“Uhhhh, yeah, maybe. There's a girl over there who might look a bit cyborg-ish. She's got a robot gun arm.”

“Shit.”

“You're on your own, Reese, but here, I'll leave you with this only slightly-busted sword for protection.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Good luck keeping the galaxy safe.”

There was a few minutes of only background noise and then Shaw addressed her again.

“Root? I'm on my way back now. You up in the room?”

“Right where you left me.”

“Be right there.”

The call finally disconnected leaving Root awash with regrets about missing out on the convention that day. The Machine had kept her filled in on Reese and Shaw's exploits, but somehow it wasn't the same. Oh well, maybe she'd be able to sneak away to CyberCon for an hour tomorrow after her presentation.

* * *

 

The first thing Shaw did when she got back to the room was shed her annoying trench coat and throw it on the floor. Root was curled up on her side on top of the sheets on the bed, watching her with an amused smile.

“You really haven't left the room all day?” Shaw asked.

“Had to finish my presentation.”

“Hmmmm.” Shaw kicked her shoes and socks off as well and chucked the sunglasses across the room. “You get something to eat at least?”

“I had lunch.”

Shaw was willing to bet the Machine had ordered it for her. Root tended to forget about everything else when she got engrossed in her work.

“Reese and I are going to grab dinner a little later. If he ever escapes from the space robots, I mean. You in?”

Root cast a guilty look over at her laptop. “I shouldn't, but…”

Shaw climbed onto the other side of the bed. “You’re the one who told me that sometimes the best way to think through a problem is to step away from it for a few hours.”

“Hmph.”

Root didn't seem surprised when Shaw curled up around her back. They slept this way often enough now that it had become normal for Shaw to fit Root into the curve of her body and rest her forehead on the back of her neck. She sometimes thought back to that first time Root had stayed at her place on the couch and Shaw had watched her sleeping peacefully there and felt weirdly satisfied, but also puzzled about why she felt satisfied by something so simple.

Things made a lot more sense now.

On a whim, she snaked one arm over Root's waist and around so she could let her hand come to rest on the back of Root's hand and curl her fingers around hers. That got a startled exhale from Root.

Shaw tried to remember if she'd ever been the one to reach out and take Root's hand before. Probably not, now that she thought about it. And while doing so would have seemed weird only a year ago, now it seemed weird not to have.

Root recovered from her surprise almost immediately and tangled her fingers with Shaw’s. She burrowed back into the warmth of Shaw's body and sighed, content.

Shaw had planned to bring up whatever it was about this presentation that had Root sulking all day, but she hated having to start those kinds of conversations. And it had turned out to be unnecessary, because Root already seemed to be a lot more relaxed.

“It's a shame I didn't get to see you and John fighting the robot armies today,” Root said suddenly.

Sometimes it was just about making Root comfortable enough that she brought things up on her own, a tactic that Shaw was well aware worked on herself as well.

“Got the impression this thing you're working on is pretty important.”

Root shifted a little in her arms.

“It is. The people who will be attending tomorrow...this is our best chance to head off another attempt at someone making something like Samaritan for a while. I've got to sell it.”

Shaw nosed some of Root's hair out of the way so she could blow on the back of her neck. “Good thing you're really good at that. I mean, no way anyone in there knows more about AI than you, right?” And if anyone could sell a lie, it was definitely Root.

“Obviously not. They're ignorant children, fumbling in the dark for something so far beyond them that they can't even properly imagine it.”

That sounded much more like the Root that Shaw knew.

“So what's the problem?”

“I'm worried that they're too grossly incompetent to understand the lie I'm selling them.”

Shaw couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her, because Root had seriously just spent an entire day sulking over how much smarter she was than all the world's leading experts in AI.

Root squirmed so she could smack her lightly with her free hand.

“This is serious, Sameen. I've had to balance it so it seems advanced enough to catch their interest, but simple enough that they can actually understand it, but still complicated enough that they won't be able to spot the flaws.”

“Does the Machine think your presentation is good enough to do that?” This was almost always an effective method of dealing with Root's bouts of insecurities.

“She does.”

“Then there you go. It'll be fine. And if it's not then I'll shoot everyone before they can leave the room.”

Root half-turned to look back at her. “You're coming?”

“Of course. It's not like I'm going back to CyberCon.” And she definitely wasn't going to miss out on Root wearing her sexy suit again.

Shaw caught the small smile on Root's face before she turned back around. “I was thinking about taking a peek in at that tomorrow if there was time after the presentation.”

Of course she was.

“Guess it's a good thing you packed another ridiculous trench coat in your size, then.” She'd seen it in Root's spare suitcase when she'd been surveying the horrible outfit the Machine and Root had inflicted on her.

“Can never be too prepared. What if you'd needed backup?”

“Uh-huh.” Shaw sat up enough so she could see the clock on the dresser. “Got a few hours before dinner…?” She left it as a question.

“Hmm, think I want to spend it in bed.”

Shaw got up the rest of the way, ignoring the small noise of protest Root made. She started the long battle of trying to force her skin-tight pants down her legs. The pants must have been custom-tailored to fit her (she was going to have to have a talk with the Machine about how she had gotten Shaw's exact measurements that precisely), and they definitely had made her look great, but they were just _not_ comfortable.

“Sweetie, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I meant I wanted a nap.” Though Root was definitely leering at her.

“No, I got that. Just getting out of this strait-jacket you and your pervy AI had made for me. This shit is not comfortable.”

“Mmm, it's a really sexy strait-jacket though.” Root looked like she was reconsidering the nap.

Shaw pulled her shirt off and chucked it at Root's face. “Weirdo.” Hopefully Root's outfit was just as bad.

Successfully freed from her sexy costume prison, Shaw crawled back into bed behind Root and settled down, reaching over to grab her hand again. Root made a pleased noise, almost like a cat’s purr, and wriggled back into her.

“Next time you drag me to one of these, I want a badass futuristic weapon with my costume,” Shaw murmured in Root's ear. “Preferably one that can be used as an actual weapon.”

She was still sad about the demise of her cool sword, though it had definitely served its purpose. Even if he got out of jail, Hank wasn't going to be drawing again for a while.

Root chuckled. “I'll let Her know.”

* * *

 

Root adjusted the collar of her trench coat and spun around to make it flare out around her. She honestly couldn't have given a single shit about the Matrix, but damn if this didn't look cool.

Shaw looked like she was trying very hard to hold back a laugh.

“You're such a fucking nerd.”

“A really sexy, badass nerd.”

“You wish.”

Root stalked over to where Shaw was perched on the edge of the bed watching her. Shaw had planted herself there after they'd gotten back from the presentation and made it clear that she was waiting to watch Root attempt to get into her own pair of skin-tight pants.

Well, she'd certainly gotten her money's worth, because that had been the most physical effort Root had ever had to put into dressing, but she'd still been riding the high from how well her presentation had gone so she hadn't cared too much. There was something exhilarating about lying through her teeth to a bunch of idiots who thought they were very clever and having them just eat it up.

She climbed onto the bed with a knee on either side of Shaw so she was straddling her lap.

“Admit it, I look good in this,” she breathed in Shaw's ear.

Shaw’s hands bypassed steadying her hips to go right to squeezing her ass in the tight pants, so there was little doubt as to her approval of the outfit.

“You do,” Shaw said in her ear, her voice a low growl that made Root stop breathing for half a second. “Almost as good as I do.”

Root smacked her on the arm playfully and got up. “Come on, Sameen, let's go get John and save the galaxy.”

The Machine ended up using up roughly four terabytes of space on footage and images of the event. Her best picture, though, was a shot from a camera in the lobby of the three of them all dressed up for the con stalking across the lobby with their coats billowing out behind them.

Root got it framed.

 


	8. Things That Go Bang in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A haunted house short story for halloween, though it's mostly silly and not scary at all. Broken into smaller stories within the larger story for whatever reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in present tense even though I loathe writing in present tense. I'm not really sure why I did that but here we are.

**Nighttime Disturbances**

John is cooking an aggressive amount of pancakes when Root comes downstairs. Root looks at the heaping plates full of breakfast food on the counter of the surprisingly modern kitchen and then at the dark circles under John's eyes and manages not to laugh. She does, however, smile ever so slightly and John's eye twitches just a fraction.

Shaw is the next to show up, wearing a shirt Root thinks might actually belong to her, but the mutual clothing-theft has gotten to the point where it's basically irrelevant. Shaw looks at John and John glares at Shaw and Shaw smirks for all she's worth. She takes two overflowing plates of pancakes, tucks a bottle maple syrup in the crook of her arm and secures a seat for herself at the big stone table in the kitchen. She looks at her plates for a few seconds and then shuffles the pancakes around with a fork until all but three are on one plate. The smaller helping gets pushed over in front of Root.

By the time John joins them at the table, Shaw has eaten half her pancakes, but she still eyes the plate of bacon and eggs he has. He puts a protective arm around his plate before he starts in.

Root waits until he’s drinking his orange juice before asking, innocently, “Did you sleep well, John?”

She's disappointed when he doesn't spit out his drink, but he does scowl at her around his glass.

Fusco shows up before John can answer and collapses into a vacant chair.

“Boy, when you said this place was haunted, you weren't joking.”

Root does not smile even a little bit. Shaw stuffs more pancakes in her mouth, a look of intense concentration on her face. On the other side of the table, John is grimacing.

Fusco doesn't seem to notice. “Creaks and bangs all night and ghostly moans. I don't think I got a wink of sleep.”

Root adjusts the collar of her shirt a little and she sees John's eyes narrow when he focuses in on the movement.

“Maybe we should attempt an exorcism tonight,” he says. “Pour some cold holy water all over the ghosts when they start being a nuisance.”

Fusco's forehead wrinkles in confusion. “I thought that was for vampires.” He gets up to investigate the pancake situation. “You really cooked a lot of these, huh?”

“I had trouble sleeping. For some reason.”

Root is done with her breakfast, but Shaw's still going strong. Root watches her stuff her cheeks like a squirrel preparing for winter.

“You two hear anything?” Fusco asks.

Root pretends not be watching John out of the corner of her eye. “Not that I can recall.”

“Funny. It was really loud. I was scared out of my mind. Spent the whole night pointing my gun at the door.”

“Do bullets even work on ghosts?” Shaw asks, her mouth momentarily pancake-free. “Silver bullets maybe?”

“That's werewolves,” Root corrects and Shaw shrugs as if defense against the supernatural is not an extremely important topic.

“I'm sorry we missed the excitement,” Root says. “I rather enjoy things that go bump in the night.” The eyebrow waggle might be a little too much, but she can't help herself.

John stands up, maybe just a little too fast.

“I'm going to go explore the rest of the house.”

* * *

 

**Cleaning out the Attic**

“Still don't see why we have to do this,” Shaw grumbles after she recovers from another sneezing fit. Everything here is covered with a thick layer of dust and it feels like her lungs are full of it, and Root has it even worse with the sneezing fits and itchy eyes. What a dumb mission.

“She thought it would be nice for all of us to get out of the city for a few days,” Root calls from the other side of the room. The boxes here are stacked high enough that Shaw can't see her over them.

“She could have given us an _actual_ vacation then, not digging through moldy paperwork in a drafty old house in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Root pops her head around the nearest stack of boxes. There's dust in her hair, a grey smudge across one of her cheeks, and she's wearing a shirt with an overly cute little ghost on it that says 'hey boo-tiful’. Shaw shouldn't think she looks hot like that. She blames it on the boredom. And on the glasses which she knows Root doesn't need for this but she's wearing anyway as some sort of attack on Shaw's sanity.

“Am I not entertaining enough for you, sweetie?” Root's practically leering at her now which looks really dorky with her wearing that shirt.

Shaw drops a stack of paper onto the floor and brushes her hands off. “We can do _that_ anywhere. Preferably somewhere warmer with room service.”

“But we'd be missing out on the added bonus of messing with the boys.” Root prods the stack of papers. “Nothing in these?”

“Not unless she's interested in a detailed hand-written accounting of how much it costs to redo the roof like eighty years ago.”

Root taps her lower lip with one finger. “Hmmm.”

“You can't be serious.”

Root shrugs helplessly. “She says you never know what She might need some day.”

Shaw has been basically over the Machine's new data collecting obsession since it started three months ago. She can acknowledge that there is a ton of information and history out in the world that's never been digitized and that some small fraction of it might help the Machine help humanity, but this is ridiculous.

The Machine can hardly rely on just them to dig up every paper document in the city, let alone in the world, and Shaw suspects she has a lot of people working for her without them realizing what their employer is. They get sent on occasional random missions though, most of which are horribly dull and involve a lot of sorting through paper and not a lot of knee-capping.

“If she really is going to want every single piece of paper in this house, she should say that and we can get a bigger van and just cram everything in there and let someone else sort it out.” Shaw has Claire still working on scanning in the thousands of pages from their last little trip, and that had been _months_ ago.

“Afraid that's not the mission, Shaw.” Root prods the half-full box in front of Shaw meaningfully with one long finger. “And how often do you get to stay in one of the most haunted houses on the east coast?”

“I'd think New England would be lousy with the things.” Shaw takes in Root's expression, gauging her options. She knows she can get out of this, but she's got to approach it the right way. “Anyway, it's not like we've seen any ghostly activity here. Scariest thing to happen was that kale disaster Reese made for dinner last night.” Reese is a decent enough cook, but there are sometimes lapses in his judgment.

“Maybe we'll get lucky and see something spooky tonight since John exiled us to the east wing. It's supposed to be where most of the haunting has taken place historically.”

Reese had half-ordered, half-begged them to move to the other wing, and while Shaw doesn't take orders from him, she’s decided to be merciful. Most rooms in the house are huge and empty which lends it some interesting acoustics and, well, Root never was much of one for keeping quiet. Which brings Shaw back to her current mission to get out of sorting papers.

“You know,” Shaw says, shifting her weight to move herself a little closer to Root, “we could get lucky right now.”

The Machine must really want these damn papers because Root actually hesitates, but Shaw knows Root has no defense against a smooth come-on like that. She bites her lower lip (an unfair move) and sees Root's already-weak defenses crumble away in a flash.

“Attics _are_ notoriously haunted,” Root says thoughtfully. “Might as well give this one a reputation.” 

There's paper carpeting the attic floor by the time they're both worn out, some of which the Machine is probably going to yell at them for irrevocably damaging, but it's so worth it.

Root rolls over in the nest of scattered papers, looking for her shirt, and picks up a paper instead.

“This is about that kid that died here.” Root hands the paper over to her. “He was found drowned in a bathtub in the east wing. Everyone suspected his older sister, but no one could ever prove it.”

Shaw looks over the paper. It's got a clipping from a newspaper attached to it talking about the death of some kid called Phillip. She vaguely remembers Root talking about the whole thing on the drive up here. Supposedly the kid's ghost haunts the house and grounds and once drowned a gardener in one of the fountains on the lawn.

“Does the Machine care about stuff that's clearly just superstition?”

Root gets up and pulls her shirt back on, much to Shaw's disappointment. “She cares about how humans react to death and grief and fear, so in that sense, yes.”

“What about you? Do you believe in ghosts, Root?” Shaw teases.

“No.” Root smiles, but it's one of those hard, cold smiles, not one of the happy ones. “Ghosts tend to haunt people who wronged them during their life, right?”

“I guess?” She thinks there's something with loved ones getting haunted too, but she's hardly an expert on these things.

“If anyone was going to have been haunted…” Root trails off and shrugs. “So the odds are against them existing.”

Shaw rolls her eyes, because of course Root's ego would dictate that if she hasn't seen a ghost no one could have.

Root offers her a hand up off the floor. “What about you, Sameen?”

“Most things people take to be ghostly activity can be explained by quantifiable, scientific means. People are always blaming things they can't explain on the supernatural. It's lazy.”

Root grins and leans in so her face is right near Shaw's. “So what will you do when the ghost of little Phillip comes wailing down the hall to drown you in the tub?”

Shaw headbutts her gently in the face. “Any ghost shows up, I'll punch its ethereal teeth in, okay?”

Root backs up, clearly amused, and then glances around at the mess they'd made. “I think we should try the library. We can let Lionel finish up with the attic.”

“He'll _love_ that.” Shaw hasn't been looking forwards to cleaning up the mess they made. She looks around the paper-covered floor one last time and then follows Root back down into the main house.

* * *

 

**The Face in the Fountain**

It's cold outside and Root wishes she'd brought a jacket, but the house and grounds are so large that going back for one would take at least twenty minutes. It might be worth it, except she's really tired and doesn't want to budge from the edge of the fountain she's perched on. The house has an unfortunate number of steps and she's been lugging boxes up and down them for the last day.

From out here she's got a pretty good view of the entire house. It's a massive thing, built out of grey and brown bricks with dark, empty windows lining every side. There's two distinct wings coming off the main house: the west wing which juts out onto the front lawn at a right angle from the rest of the house, and the east wing which, inexplicably, does the reverse and sticks out into the woods behind the house.

The front lawn has a few pathways across the overgrown grass, all in poor repair, and a handful of crumbling, ornamental fountains full of brackish water, including the one Root's sitting on. The back lawn has what was once a hedge maze but is now an impassable wall of brambles that the forest is hurrying to reclaim.

Shaw is running laps around the front lawn. Root figures she's working out the frustration of being stuck here for a week with no one to shoot. Shaw pauses next to the fountain on her next lap.

“You don't have to wait for me out here if you're cold.”

“I don't mind.” There's no easy way to watch Shaw work out back in the city, but here she can watch the full length of every lap Shaw runs and discreetly take pictures with her phone.

“Probably shouldn't stay by these things too long anyway.” Shaw peers into the murky water in the fountain with distaste. “Who knows what sort of shit's growing in there.”

Root looks in as well, but other than a distorted reflection of herself she can't see much.

“Maybe breathing in spores from whatever's growing in this toxic sludge is where all the ghost stories come from in the first place,” Shaw says. She drops a large rock in and it vanishes below the surface with a _sploop_ noise. Ripples run across the surface of the water further distorting Root's reflection and stirring up the mud from the bottom. Something moves in the murky depths.

Root jerks back from the water and falls off the edge of the fountain to land on the ground.

“Root?”

Shaw looks at her like she's gone nuts and Root takes a second to get her breathing back under control before she answers.

“I didn't want to get splashed.” She gets back to her feet and tries to brush the dirt off, but the lawn was still damp from the rain last night so her pants are pretty much hopeless.

“It didn't even splash.” Shaw peers at the water as if she's expecting to find some other cause.

Root keeps her distance from the fountain. “We should head back inside and get changed before dinner.”

“Guess so.”

Root resolutely doesn't look back as they head up to the house for dinner. She knows it was just her imagination combined with reading stories of this place, but she can't quite shake the image of a corpse-pale face floating under the water, it's glassy eyes opened wide and staring at the sky.

* * *

 

**The Face in the Fountain (continued)**

They eat all their meals in the kitchen because the dining room is enormous, dusty, poorly lit, and even Shaw can admit it's a bit creepy. The kitchen is more than large enough and one of the few mostly clean rooms in the house. It should be a nice, friendly team dinner, but Fusco is exhausted and freaked out from the ‘ghost activity’ the previous evening, Reese is still sulking, and Root has been quiet since they came in for dinner. Shaw isn't sure what's up with her, but she figures it's nothing Root's going to open up about with the other two here.

After dinner they have to get their bags from their rooms to move to the east wing. Shaw brings a flashlight along since the electricity here seems to have a mind of its own and the wiring in the east wing is supposedly even worse. She thinks about calling the whole thing off and staying in the west wing, but she knows she'd get shit from Reese about being scared of ghosts if she did.

She briefly reconsiders again though because Root is still acting weird and making sure Root is okay is more important than not being teased by Reese, but Root doesn't seem to have any issue with switching wings. Still, she knows something is still up because Root doesn't hit on her once during the walk over and she's being all jumpy. Maybe she should have brought Bear along after all.

The rooms here are larger and probably had been nicer once upon a time, but now they're mostly dusty and full of covered furniture. The cleaning service the Machine had sent here ahead of time had salvaged a few bedrooms in both wings so there's a few habitable ones the choose from. Root opts for the smallest and Shaw doesn't argue because the rooms here are unreasonably large.

She waits until they climb into bed for the night before she tries to get an explanation out of Root.

“You've been quiet.”

Root murmurs something in response but it's muffled by her pillow. Shaw speaks evasive-Root-tactics well enough by this point that she can figure out by the pitch of Root's voice that she's brushing off the question. Shaw might have pushed further normally, but she's tired from lugging boxes of papers up and down stairs all day so she settles for rolling over closer to Root and dropping her arm over her. Root puts her hand over Shaw's and settles in.

Shaw isn't sure what wakes her up in the middle of the night, but she's suddenly wide awake and Root isn't next to her anymore. An unnecessarily dramatic flash of lightning from outside shows her that the other half of the bed is empty.

She figures Root probably just went to the bathroom, but the whole creepy house situation seems to merit her checking just in case. The bathroom is empty and Shaw stops back in her room to grab a flashlight before looking any further. Root took her slippers with her, she notes, so it wasn't like she ran out in a panic.

There's only a few places in the house they've all spent any amount of time in. She knows Root wouldn't go to the library since the extreme amount of dust there had caused her the sneezing fits that had sent them outside earlier that day. She wouldn't have a reason to go back to the room they'd stayed in previously, and a quick check of the main entrance hall has it full of shadowy corners but empty of Root. So that leaves the kitchen.

Root's sitting on the counter in the dark eating ice cream out of the container. Her hair is back in a messy ponytail and her bunny slippers are on her dangling feet. Shaw admits that she's maybe a tiny bit relieved by the sight even though she hadn't really thought anything bad had happened.

“I couldn't sleep,” Root says by way of explanation.

There's another flash of lightning outside followed by a peal of thunder and then it starts pouring. Raindrops hammer on the windows.

Root's face lights up in glee.

“Thunderstorm in a haunted house. Another item to cross off the bucket list.”

At least she seems to be in a better mood now even if she is working her way through their entire supply of ice cream. Shaw tries to rescue the remains of the pint, but Root loops her stupidly long legs around her and traps her there up against the counter. Root holds a large spoon of ice cream up and pushes it at Shaw’s face and no way is Shaw letting herself be fed like a _child_ even if it is ice cream.

She ends up with ice cream smeared across her face before she escapes from Root's hold. The whole thing is extremely undignified and she's glad Reese isn't here to see it. She might discreetly wipe the remaining ice cream off her face with one hand and then lick it off her fingers, but there's no proof.

“Are you done now?” she asks, still indignant, but somewhat mollified by the delicious chocolate goodness.

Root evaluates her almost empty ice cream carton. “I suppose so.”

The ice cream goes back in the fridge and they walk back together by the light of Shaw's flashlight. Root seems okay now, but Shaw is still curious about earlier. She doesn't like it when she doesn't know why Root's upset, and if she doesn't find out what caused this round how can she prevent it next time?

“Did you see something when we were outside?” she asks as they cross the entrance hall. “In the fountain?” That's when this had started.

Root makes a small _hmph_ noise. “Ghosts aren't real.”

“You saw a ghost out there?”

“Obviously I couldn't have since they're not real.” Root's tone is a bit condescending which Shaw takes as an improvement.

“Sure, but there could have been a dead animal or who knows what else in there. We can go take another look tomorrow if you want.”

“Yes, maybe that's just the thing.”

The way Root says it is maybe a bit ominous, but Shaw is glad enough that Root’s in a better mood that she doesn't read into it too much.

The next morning Root is already up and gone when Shaw wakes up. Shaw heads down to the kitchen and after a few very pointed hints from Reese makes a detour to the front lawn.

There is a huge truck parked on the front lawn. And a bulldozer.

Definitely suspicious.

Shaw goes back inside and gets coffee before investigating further because asking her to deal with Root's shenanigans without caffeine is cruel. When she gets over to the truck she sees some workers have a huge black hose running into the fountain Root had been sitting on yesterday and are draining it. Root stands nearby watching over the proceedings.

“When I said we could take another look…” Shaw trails off.

Root beams at her. “It was a _great_ suggestion, so I figured I'd get right on it.”

“Right.”

The workers at the fountain wave them over. One of them points at something in the bottom of the drained basin. Shaw goes over to look and there, nestled in the wet weeds and filth, is the most repugnant looking baby doll she's ever seen. It's face is ghostly white and cracked and its glossy black eyes are wide and gaping like a fish's. If there'd been hair on it once it’s long gone now and most of the body is crushed.

“This what you saw yesterday?” Shaw can understand why seeing that bob up under the water might be disturbing, especially given the setting and the whole gardener-drowned-in-the-fountain story.

Root has a nasty glint in her eyes. “Unimportant now.”

She steps back from the fountain and waves an arm at the woman driving the bulldozer. Shaw sees where this is going and retreats to a safe distance. She'd ask Root if destroying the fountain is strictly necessary, but she already knows the answer she'd get and anyway Root just looks so pleased with herself and it's kind of endearing.

It's a weird sort of morning, she thinks. She's standing on the lawn of a haunted mansion wearing her boxers and a hoodie and Root's bright pink flip flops and drinking coffee out of a mug with a cartoon penguin on it. Root's next to her watching the bulldozer demolish the fountain with a look of intense satisfaction on her face. Her clothing situation isn't much better, though she at least managed to put on pants. She's got a new shirt Shaw hasn't before yet that says ‘ghouls just wanna have fun’ on it (Shaw is sensing a theme here) and an oversized flannel that Shaw thinks she might have stolen from one of their recent numbers and is _barefoot_ much to Shaw's horror.

“Can I have a sip of that?” Root asks as the bulldozer backs up to make another pass at the ruined fountain.

“No,” Shaw says and hands her the mug.

“Thanks, Sameen.”

* * *

 

**The Monster in the Conservatory**

Fusco is red-faced and out of breath when he comes running into the lounge.

“It's...it's in the…” He pauses panting for breath.

Root waits politely for him to finish. Or leave. She's not picky.

“In the conservatory,” Fusco manages to get out.

Root sets down the ornamental dagger she's been considering accidentally acquiring for herself. “What is?”

“M-monster.” Fusco collapses into a mildewed arm chair.

Shaw peeks around the door frame from the next room. “What sort of monster?”

“Big...angry…teeth…”

“Evil dentures in the greenhouse sounds like a John problem,” Root says and ducks down to open the cabinet under the table.

“I want to fight the monster,” Shaw says. Her tone allows for no arguments.

Root can't not watch that so she gives up on robbing the place and follows Shaw. They pick up John from the smoking room along the way and head, not to the main entrance to the conservatory, but upstairs to the walkway entrance.

The conservatory is relatively newer than the rest of the house, a two story greenhouse built out of thick sheets of glass to let the sunlight in. There's a walkway on the second level of it that's accessible via a small staircase in the conservatory or an actual door from the second floor of the main house.

Shaw pauses as they near the door and reaches behind one of the creepy statues that line the hallways to pull out...a sniper rifle.

Root is impressed and slightly turned on. Maybe more than slightly. She wonders how many guns Shaw has hidden all over the house now.

“Let's see what this monster is,” Shaw says and pushes the door open.

The air inside smells awful, like rotten plants and soil and Root wrinkles her nose in disgust. Left untended, everything in the conservatory has either died or spread out to overtake all the other plants. There's vines and small trees below them and it looks a little like a jungle.

Shaw holds a finger up to her lips and then drops down to her hands and knees on the metal walkway to peer down into the forest below. Root looks over the edge of the railing, but nothing catches her eye. Maybe Fusco was imagining things.

Shaw smacks her on the leg and points and sure enough there's some leaves and branches rustling in the far corner. At first Root thinks it must be a squirrel, but it's pretty clearly something much larger. Maybe a deer?

All three of them watch the greenery closely as the shaking foliage gets nearer and nearer to the center of the room. Their quarry bursts out of the leaves and raises its large face to gaze up at them and sniff the air.

“Not a monster after all,” Reese says as they watch their new companion yawn hugely and show off its massive teeth and pink tongue.

“She's beautiful,” Shaw says softly, her voice full of wonder that's usually reserved for dogs.

Root isn't sure ‘beautiful’ is the word she'd use for the massive black bear munching on things in their house, but Shaw's obvious delight is adorable. Root, however, now feels totally justified in her previous caution about bears as those teeth are _very_ large and its paws look impossibly huge. She's glad they're up high.

“There's a broken pane in the back,” Reese says. “She must have wandered in looking for food.”

Shaw frowns. “I hope she didn't step on any of the glass. Maybe we should check…”

Root is about to ask just _how_ she plans to do that, but John seems to be one step ahead of her.

“We are not tranqing the bear, Shaw.”

Shaw actually pouts, lower lip stuck out like a child.

“But she might be hurt.”

They all watch the enormous bear stand up on its hind legs to rip a branch off a little tree. The walkway is high enough that she couldn't ever reach them, but it's still intimidating.

Shaw sighs. “Fine.” She sits down with her legs dangling over the side. Root figures she's staying until the bear gets safely away. She's torn between wanting to stay and watch Shaw watch the bear and going back to investigate the possibility of further fancy weaponry in need of a new owner.

Staying with Shaw wins out easily in the end. They sit side by side with their legs hanging off the walkway watching the bear snort and huff its way around the floor. Shaw's theory is there was some sort of fruit tree or berry bush down there and the bear is searching the ground for leftovers. Shaw takes the scope off her rifle so she can watch it close up.

After about an hour, the bear must run out of food because it lumbers back out the broken pane (Shaw watches with concern) and back into the woods at the edge of the property.

“I hope she's okay.”

“She'll be fine, Sameen.” It's sweet the way Shaw worries about some things so much, often things (people, animals) that no one else seems to care about. “Should we rip your clothes a bit and mess up your hair so we can tell Fusco the tale of your epic battle against the greenhouse monster?”

“No clothes ripping.”

Root could say _several_ somethings about the hypocrisy of that, but she doesn't want to discourage Shaw from future over-enthusiastic clothing removals.

“We should make it look good though,” Shaw says and offers her a hand up. “Guess you'll need to give me a hand with that.”

“My pleasure.”

* * *

 

**The Ghost of the East Wing**

Root has to admit that the east wing of the house has a good, spooky atmosphere. There's scorch marks on some of the walls from a fire that partially burned down the wing years ago (the stories have it that you can still smell the smoke in the air, but Root has yet to smell anything other than mildew), and all the furniture is under white sheets. The wind howls through the cracks and rattles the windows enough to be irritating and make the whole place chilly. And then there's the fact the forest has grown in thick around this wing so there's nothing but dark woods outside the windows.

But the heating works well enough to keep the place comfortable and she's got Shaw as an extra heater, so it could be much worse.

Shaw whines in protest when Root sticks her cold feet up against her leg to warm them up. It's a cute enough noise that Root pulls her feet back and pushes them up against Shaw's other leg to see if she can get a repeat.

What she actually gets is socked in the face with a pillow.

It takes a few minutes of shuffling around before they're both comfortable enough to drift off and Root is so worn out from all the excitement of the day that she falls asleep quickly and doesn't wake up again until Shaw shakes her by the shoulder.

“Hhzzmhh?” Root asks. It's pitch black and she's still tired.

Shaw lays a finger across her lips to shush her and tilts her head to one side as if listening. Root goes as quiet as she can, barely breathing, and focuses on every little noise the house is making.

Footsteps. Those are definitely footsteps, and they're coming closer down the creaky floorboards of the hall.

Shaw rolls out of bed and drops to the floor in a crouch. Root knows for a fact that there's no way to move across the floor in this room without the floorboards making a racket, and yet Shaw is completely silent.

The footsteps are getting closer, and even though Root knows that ghosts don't exist and that the house isn't really haunted, she still feels a slight twist of fear in her stomach. She grabs her taser off the nightstand since Shaw has a gun already and if somehow she's been wrong all these years and ghosts really _do_ exist, then maybe an electric current will be more effective against them than a bullet.

The door bursts open and there's a tall, formless white figure in the hallway.

“OoooOOOooooo,” it moans.

Root sighs. He wasn't even trying very hard, was he?

Shaw leaps up from where she was crouched next to the door and socks the ghost squarely in where it's face would be.

“Oww!” the ghost yells.

Shaw kicks it in the leg and slams into it so it falls over, twisted in its own sheet.

Root gingerly climbs out of bed and winces when her feet hit the bare floor. She tests the power on her taser as she moves towards the fallen ghost. Sure, she knows it's John, but he doesn't know that she knows so who could blame her for defending herself?

It's hours before anyone gets back to sleep.

* * *

 

**Reassignment**

Shaw wakes up to the news that they've been taken off the mission and are to return to the city immediately. She'd sort of been hoping to see the bear again, but otherwise she's pretty glad to get out of this place.

The list of reasons Root gives for their sudden departure is hard to argue with. The many incidents the Machine took issue with include: destruction of valuable historical documents, destruction of historic architecture, petty larceny, grand larceny, discussion of unsafe animal handling techniques (Shaw rolls her eyes at that one), excessive sneezing on valuable books, using historical stone gargoyles as target practice, attempted assault on an asset with a non-lethal weapon, and successful unarmed assault of an asset leading to a mild injury.

It's an impressive list and Shaw figures it's no wonder she feels so tired.

Reese is loading the car when she gets outside. He still isn't speaking to her and is holding an ice pack to his bruised jaw. Really he should be grateful she'd stopped Root from tasing him. It's not their fault he decided to try and scare them and they're hardly to blame for retaliating.

Root is a little sad they're leaving early and still sulking about missing out on a good tasing, but she seems eager to get back home as well. She steals the passenger's seat before either of the boys can try to claim it.

Fusco is grumpy despite being the only one to have gotten a full night's sleep. “Next time you three need help, don't call me.”

Reese broods intensely in the back seat.

“Guess it'll just be you and me for the next haunted house,” Root says.

Shaw considers pointing out that basically every single strike against them from the Machine was either her or Root's fault (though Reese had brought that slug in the jaw on himself), and that the chances of either of them ever being sent on a similar mission are slim to none.

“I think we're scarier than a bunch of ghosts,” she says instead.

Root looks quite pleased with that response and begins listing off directions to get them back to the highway and out of this desolate area. Shaw starts the car down the driveway, the slightly-more-decrepit-than-they'd-found-it house in her rearview mirror.


End file.
